


like daylight, you're golden

by halfthemoon



Category: TOMORROW X TOGETHER | TXT (Korea Band)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Childhood Friends, Friends to Lovers, I pinky promise, M/M, Misunderstandings, Pining, Slow Burn, Underage Drinking, and I mean it this time, inspired by love rosie (2014), txt are all the same age here, yeonbin: we're going to create a friendship so homoerotic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-23
Updated: 2020-11-23
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:48:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 91,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27685154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/halfthemoon/pseuds/halfthemoon
Summary: Yeonjun turns his head to look at him with pleading eyes, but Soobin already has the answer. “Yeah, I promise,” he whispers. “I’ll find you.”Yeonjun hugs him. Soobin waits for the bus.They’re twelve now, and that’s when it starts.
Relationships: Choi Soobin/Choi Yeonjun
Comments: 154
Kudos: 597





	1. solar eclipse

**Author's Note:**

> this fic is inspired by love, rosie (2014)!
> 
> special thanks to amel and gigi for proofreading the first chapter! i hope i make you guys proud <3
> 
> title is based on taylor swift's 'daylight'.

Yeonjun wants to be an astronaut.

Their friends laugh at him when he told the class. Soobin feels the tear-stained mark on his shirt as Yeonjun leans on his shoulder on the way home.

They wait for the bus together. Because that’s what they do. They do things together and wait for things with each other. Filling in spaces that were never meant for them. At the bus stop, it’s just them. Yeonjun’s hair on his like a constellation.

“Sorry,” Yeonjun mumbles, pressing his eyes on Soobin’s shoulder hard enough to hurt.

“Your poor eyeballs,” Soobin holds him still, a hand on his arm. He feels unusually cold. “Don’t wipe them off like that.”

Yeonjun pouts, but retreats back. He’s squinting at Soobin. The edges of his eyes are red and bruised.

“What are you sorry for?” Soobin asks softly, even though he knows why he feels bad. Still remembers the look on his face when no one took him seriously. The falling smile on his lips as it sunk in.

“They think I’m stupid.”

Soobin snorts. “That’s because _they’re_ stupid.”

“You don’t think I’m stupid?”

Soobin stares at the tears that linger on Yeonjun’s cheeks. Reaches out to touch them, one by one, until the wetness linger on his fingertips instead.

“No,” Soobin says.

“It _is_ a little stupid.”

Soobin shakes his head. “But you’ve always wanted to be an astronaut.”

Yeonjun leans on him again. “It wasn’t stupid when I was four, probably.”

“Then you’re consistent,” Soobin says, feeling each of Yeonjun’s breaths. “That’s fine.”

Yeonjun rests his head on Soobin’s shoulder. Soobin stares at him quietly, the mess of black hair and the white of his school uniform. The soft sniffles stuck in his chest.

“I’ll watch over you,” Yeonjun says, low enough that Soobin almost didn’t hear it. “From space, I’ll watch over you.”

Soobin laughs as he imagines Yeonjun with an astronaut suit on. Looking at earth to find the smallest dot of Soobin - but maybe Yeonjun would find him still.

“I’ll watch over you too,” Soobin says.

“Would you?”

Soobin nods. That’s an easy question. Yeonjun is his best friend in the entire world. “Of course,” he says, and looks at the _space_ between them - barely there, nonexistent. Soobin always wants them to be this close. If Yeonjun ever decided to really go become an astronaut and leave him on earth, Soobin would miss him more than anyone else.

“Promise?”

Yeonjun turns his head to look at him with pleading eyes, but Soobin already has the answer. “Yeah, I promise,” he whispers. “I’ll find you.”

Yeonjun hugs him. Soobin waits for the bus.

They’re twelve now, and that’s when it starts.

*

“Will you be there when I get married?”

It’s a crisp, hot afternoon and Soobin wipes the sweat off his forehead. He squints at the sun. Always too bright, distracting, never enough.

He imagines it in his head: Yeonjun in a suit with pretty flowers in his pretty hair, and nods eagerly. He doesn’t have to think about it. “Yeah.”

Yeonjun links his arm with his. Something he does a lot, especially when they’re walking home to the bus stop. Just the two of them; as always, and Soobin lets him drag him along however he wants.

“Really?” Yeonjun chirps, a happy voice. It makes Soobin turn his head, and Yeonjun smiles right at him like a punch in the gut. He’s infectious, glorious. Entirely too blinding in a place like this.

“Of course,” Soobin nods again. “I’ll be your best man.”

Yeonjun holds his hand tighter, a wordless dread. Soobin’s still looking at him, just because.

“Do you like anyone?” Yeonjun asks suddenly, then the air shifts.

Soobin has never thought about that. “I don’t know,” he says, mulling it over. “I don’t think so.”

There’s a finger on Soobin’s wrist, a beat of silence before: “I can’t wait to like someone,” and Yeonjun hums. He tugs Soobin along with him, an invisible string. “It seems like a lot of fun.”

Soobin scrunches his nose and counts the pebbles underneath his shoes. “It doesn’t seem like fun.”

“How do you know? You’ve never liked anyone.”

“I like you,” Soobin says easily. He likes Yeonjun’s fluffy hair and his unfunny jokes, the way his eyes shut when he laughs. It’s an easy to thing say, light in his mouth.

But that’s only because Yeonjun’s his best friend.

Yeonjun giggles; a soft thing that settles warm. Even warmer than the sun, he thinks. “I like you too, Binnie,” Yeonjun says it back, just as light.

“You’re going to fall,” Soobin warns as Yeonjun tugs at him again and now they’re running on the sidewalk. He doesn’t listen to him. Slowly, there’s a hand on his. Sweaty palm against his own.

“At least you’re falling with me,” Yeonjun laughs and starts running again.

Soobin lets him take him away, and thinks he already trips but doesn’t notice.

*

“He’s, like, the moon.”

Soobin turns his head to look at Yeonjun.

The evening light on his cheekbones, wet hair on his eyelashes. Yeonjun’s smiling fondly at the sky - somewhere far and celestial he always wishes to see.

“Who?”

“Kai.”

The new school year is starting in a few weeks. The beach is beautiful.

It’s an annual trip for them - they go here every New Year’s Eve. It started a long time ago when Yeonjun’s family prepared a trip here for the holiday, but he didn’t want to let go of Soobin’s hand. He threw a tantrum and made a ruckus when everyone was already in the car, but Yeonjun refused to go without Soobin. He ended up joining them.

Then the trips become exclusive for the two of them. At first, their families come with them, a joint trip. Then they got their licenses, and Yeonjun drives them here with the music blaring loud.

It’s not New Year, but it’s a special occasion. They’re on their last year of high school.

Soobin sees the horizon far ahead. The waves on sand. Hushed ripples of water that seems muted, because Yeonjun’s beside him.

He looks at Yeonjun, even when he’s not looking back at him. He has his hand folded underneath his head.

“Kai?” Soobin knows the name. Seems like the whole school knows that name. The question is more to himself than anything else - a curiosity and an eager confirmation. “You mean Huening Kai? The popular kid from the other class?”

He’s popular, like Yeonjun, and Yeonjun’s talked to him before but they’re not close _close_. They’re - Soobin thinks they’re friends. Nothing more. The lingering _yet_ scares him more than anything else.

“Yeah, _that_ Kai. Who else, Binnie.”

“Just making sure.”

Making sure. Yeah. Soobin gulps it down, like he always has. Stares at the line of Yeonjun’s nose, even when the beach is loud and stunning, and there’s so much else to see.

“He’s the moon,” Yeonjun repeats, as if Soobin didn’t hear it clear the first time. Soobin knows it’s nonsense - that whatever he’s talking about right now is just him being sappy and blinded. They’re seventen, they’re supposed to sound stupid and first loves are never meant to last anyway, “He’s, so, _bright_ ,” he goes on dreamily, and Soobin wonders if that’s how he talks about Yeonjun too. Blissfully ignorant and yet still bare.

Soobin knows what he means. Kai smiles at everyone, even to him. He laughs like everything brings him joy, and a trail of magic fairy dust seems to follow him around. It helps that he’s smart and talented, too. He sings and plays the guitar, scores perfect grades, and an overall good student.

Soobin knows what he means. He hates that he understands.

“Then you’re the sun,” Soobin says, lighter than the sand. A breeze to the air, an unknowing confession out of his mouth.

Yeonjun laughs. The sun sinks lower, and Yeonjun follows. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t know,” Soobin shrugs, an uneasy feeling in his chest. “You said he’s bright. I think you’re brighter.”

Yeonjun looks back at him. A tender smile in his lips; overwhelmingly familiar. He’d know that smile in a dark room. He’d know it anywhere.

“You’re cheesy sometimes, you know that?”

“I’m just saying,” Soobin says in defense, even when there’s nothing to defend.

“Binnie,” he calls, and Soobin’s always there to answer.

“Yeah,” his answer, and he dreads it. The silence crawls on him, and then it grips.

“I like him a lot,” Yeonjun says, inevitable.

He saw it coming. It shouldn’t feel heavy.

Soobin gets up and reaches out for the sand. Holds it on his fingertips, feels it melt on his skin. This is what Yeonjun’s been waiting for, right? Soobin should be happy for him. And he is. _He is._ He is happy for him, but nothing has ever ached like this.

“I know,” he says. “I can tell.”

“Don’t you like someone too?”

“Not really,” Soobin shakes his head, but it doesn’t feel right.

“Beomgyu’s cute,” Yeonjun considers it. “Kai’s best friend. They’re always together.”

Soobin’s never seen Kai without Beomgyu. Beomgyu - Choi Beomgyu. Yeah, he knows him. He’s shorter than Kai and has a baby face. Pink lips with doe eyes.

“Sure,” Soobin says, uninterested.

“We could double date,” Yeonjun suggests enthusiastically, eyes gleaming. He gets up from his lying position and tugs Soobin’s arm. “That would be _so cute_.”

Soobin smiles at him. He doesn’t know why it makes him nauseous instead, imagining it.

“You know, if Kai and I,” Yeonjun says, hesitating a little, like he’s doubting it. “ _Ever_ got together.”

Soobin thinks Yeonjun could be with anyone he wants. Yeonjun is pretty. He’s pretty and he’s handsome too. He looks like everyone’s type. He shouldn’t worry about Kai.

“Don’t worry about it, Junie,” he mutters sincerely. “You have no competition.”

“What are you talking about? I’m competing with the whole school.”

“They’ve got nothing on you.”

Yeonjun laughs again. He puts his head on Soobin’s shoulder. “I’m so lucky you’re my best friend.”

Soobin stares at Yeonjun’s hair and feels those words cold on his skin. The beach is beautiful, but it doesn’t quite have the view.

_It shouldn’t feel heavy._

*

Yeonjun wants to be an astronaut, so his room is always pitch black.

Soobin trips on something on the floor. Yeonjun’s been doing this since he was a toddler (he said this is some sort of training for him, an idea he conjured when he was too young and didn’t really understand much about space, but the habit stuck and here he is), and Soobin still can’t figure out where everything is even though it’s been years - because Yeonjun is _messy,_ and there’s always something on the floor as an obstacle. Through his struggle, Yeonjun’s laugh echoes and Soobin makes grabby hands at the air as he makes his way. When his knees finally bump the side of the bed, Soobin falls on it with a huff.

“At least keep a lamp on or something,” Soobin suggests hushedly, and winces when Yeonjun elbows his ribs. “Do you want me to die because I accidentally trip on your dirty clothes?”

“You’re so dramatic,” Yeonjun snorts as he snuggles in - cheek on his arm, feet tangled warmly with his. His bed is too small, obviously not for two. But they never let that bother them, now intertwined together like a promise. This is how they’ve always been - Soobin can’t even remember when they first met. He was too young to remember. But Yeonjun has always been stuck to his side, a persistent force like gravity.

“Is my pain funny to you,” Soobin says dryly, but knocks his head on Yeonjun’s, shutting his eyes as the darkness closes in. It’s always like this in Yeonjun’s room - no such difference in opening or closing his eyes, because he’s greeted with the same thing anyway.

In Yeonjun’s room, Soobin only feels him. He doesn’t see him, but his skin meets his, and Soobin settles.

“Binnie.”

“Junie.”

“Did you see Kai today?”

Soobin moves uneasily, suddenly hyper aware of Yeonjun’s warmth. A pit grows on his stomach. Just a little spark, a little burn, and he gulps it down.

“Yeah,” Soobin answers, quiet enough that maybe Yeonjun wouldn’t hear it. “I passed him during lunch.”

“What did he do?”

“He was eating.”

Yeonjun scoffs at him. “Yeah, _except_ that.”

Soobin sees him in his head. Kai with his perfect hair and perfect smile and perfect laugh.

“I wasn’t paying attention,” he lies. He did nothing but stare, still eager to see what he’s about. The perfect Huening Kai - loved by everyone and by Yeonjun too, apparently.

“Do you think he likes me back?”

“Who wouldn’t like you?”

Yeonjun laughs, the sound bright in the darkness. “I hope he likes me,” he says.

Soobin doesn’t understand why Yeonjun would doubt that. Everyone already likes him - Kai probably would too. Or maybe Soobin spends too much time with Yeonjun and can’t simply see it going the other way.

“You just need to talk to him,” Soobin says, feels Yeonjun moving again and his knee bumps his.

“Then who would talk to _you_?”

Soobin elbows him back. “I can manage by myself, thank you very much.”

“I know,” Yeonjun says seriously, even though Soobin didn’t mean it like that. He stills for a moment, like he’s thinking it over. “It’s just a crush. I’ll get over it anyway.”

Soobin nods and sinks further into Yeonjun’s body. “Okay.”

Yeonjun smells like Soobin’s favorite soap. It lingers in the air and on his skin.

“Thank you for coming here,” Yeonjun says.

Yeonjun is only three houses away.

That’s how Soobin learned how to count. Mom used to say, that’s _one,_ that’s _two,_ that’s _three,_ and that’s _Yeonjun_. Soobin counted his steps until he knew how to count to the hundreds, and Yeonjun held his hand when he reached his first.

“You’re lucky we’re neighbours.”

Yeonjun never liked sleeping alone. He likes latching himself to him until they feel like one heat under the blanket. Soobin remembers their planned sleepovers when they were younger. The forts they used to build. Yeonjun playing pretend as an astronaut and they looked over the makeshift spaceship to the whole expanse of the galaxy together. Soobin was always his right hand man. The one who follows him around as he seeks for adventure.

As they get older, the sleepovers are spontaneous more than anything. Yeonjun calls him up at midnight - a pouty lips, soft voice, and Soobin would always come running.

“Can’t sleep again?” Soobin asks softly, sighs when Yeonjun hums. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“I’m just worried a lot these days,” Yeonjun admits, his voice small.

“About?”

“A lot.”

Soobin nods. Opens his eyes even when he can’t see anything, just for the sake of it. “I know what you mean,” he says, and he does. They’re graduating next year. It’s a scary thing - like they’re finally going to the real world, and everything else has just been a training ground. Exactly like this Yeonjun’s dark room. A preparation for something so much bigger.

“Thank you,” Yeonjun repeats, softer.

“What for?”

“I don’t know,” he says. “Just - thank you.”

Soobin feels Yeonjun’s soft breaths on his shoulder. It’s light and lulling, and Soobin knows what he means.

*

Yeonjun kisses him on his eighteenth birthday party, and Soobin thinks that’s when the night ends.

It’s a big party. The music is loud and obnoxious - something fun and pop and in English. Soobin watches the scene quietly, like he usually does, impassive and observant through muted chatter and foreign laughs. He’s drinking a little beer because everyone else is, but he’s sipping absentmindedly and lets his mind rests into a soothing haze. Not too much, but enough.

Yeonjun’s greeting everyone, but he makes sure to glance back at Soobin every now and then, a brief lock of eyes that makes Soobin shiver. He’s at the couch, his ribs meeting the end of it, shoulders uncomfortable resting on the back. He’s not really good at social settings, Yeonjun is, but as always he complies on every Yeonjun’s wish because he can’t ever say no to him.

If this was any other person, Soobin wouldn’t come. He wouldn’t come because this many people stresses him out and the music pounds hard in his eardrums like alarm. In his head, he’s counting down - the slow drag of the pointy clock finger until it finally strikes twelve, and it’s officially a full day since Yeonjun’s an eighteen year old boy.

He thinks about Yeonjun, here, in the couch, as he stares at the lights on everyone’s skin. He thinks about Yeonjun and a bus stop, and there’s an ache where it shouldn’t be.

Yeonjun’s eighteen, Soobin’s still seventeen for a few months left, and it feels like a turning point.

The beer’s empty in his glass. He doesn’t like the smell.

Yeonjun towers over him. A blurry figure in front of him, dark messy bangs on Yeonjun’s forehead. He looks cute. He’s dressed because it’s his birthday, and Soobin helps him with the make up before everyone comes.

Yeonjun always looks cute, but right now he looks unbearably perfect.

He’s wearing black jeans and a simple white shirt with a leather jacket that makes him look rough. But Yeonjun’s not rough - he’s _soft_ and pretty, and Soobin would know, because he’s his best friend.

From here, the lights play on Yeonjun’s shadow like hide and seek, but Soobin easily finds his smile, and as blinding as it is, Soobin warms.

“Binnie, get up,” Yeonjun tugs his arm hurriedly. “I need your help.”

Soobin stands up and squints. The world spins for a moment, before it finally tilts back and he stares. “What? Why? Something’s wrong?”

“ _Yes,_ ” Yeonjun says, but then he shakes his head. “Wait, no - everything’s fine, but Kai’s here. Help me talk to him, come on.”

Soobin rolls his eyes. Why would Yeonjun ever need him to talk to a boy. It doesn’t make sense. Yeonjun’s effortlessly beautiful and charming, why would he need _his_ help?

“Junie,” Soobin pats his arm, harsher than intended. “Talk to him yourself. Don’t be a wimp.”

“I’m not a _wimp_ ,” Yeonjun says offendedly, and links his arm with Soobin’s, and suddenly they’re walking to the living room. “But I need you.”

“No you don’t,” Soobin says, but follows him anyway.

Kai is here, as Yeonjun previously said. He looks _bright_ , even under the dim lights, and Soobin seethes. He’s with Beomgyu, matching smiles on their lips.

“Hi, welcome!” Yeonjun greets them both and lets go of Soobin. He’s smiling, like the sun, and maybe Soobin’s been burned before, but he didn’t know. “I’m so glad you could come.”

Kai laughs politely, ducking his head, and in his hand there’s a box wrapped in pretty bow. “Of course. Happy birthday, Yeonjun.”

Yeonjun beams at the box and embraces it softly. “Oh my god, you shouldn’t have. Thank you.”

Kai shakes his head dismissively, “No problem,” he says, and when he turns to look at Soobin, his eyes widen for a second, as though he was just made aware of his existence. “Oh, hi to you too, Soobin!”

Soobin acknowledges him and nods. Kai fumbles a little, but flashes him a tight smile anyway.

“Happy birthday, Yeonjun,” Beomgyu says, shoving his own present to Yeonjun’s arm. He shyly waves his hand in Soobin’s direction as their eyes meet. “Hi, Soobin.” He only nods it back.

They all know each other, but they’re not _friends._ Soobin doesn’t know how to break the ice, but luckily Yeonjun does. He starts talking animatedly, and Soobin quietly listens.

After that awkward encounter and they disappear into the crowd, Soobin sighs and slaps Yeonjun’s shoulder. “What was _that_?”

“Ow,” he winces and slaps him back. “I thought that was smooth.”

“No, it wasn’t?” Soobin retorts, bitter and petty for reasons he can’t comprehend.

“Shut up, you’re just jealous I got to talk to someone I like,” Yeonjun shoots him daggers with his eyes. “By the way, did you see how Beomgyu looked at you?”

Soobin falters. “What.”

“He was _blushing_ ,” Yeonjun says, and drags him to the balcony. The sound is less echoey here, a lot less heavy, and Soobin feels the wind on his face. “I think he has a crush on you.”

Soobin brushes it off and eyes Kai’s present still on Yeonjun’s hold. “What do you think’s inside?”

Yeonjun looks at it in fascination, as if it wasn’t just a simple box. “I don’t know.”

Soobin takes it from him and puts it on a nearby table almost in annoyance, but he doesn’t think about it. He wordlessly grabs another plastic cups and hands one to Yeonjun. “Cheers?”

Yeonjun laughs, and his eyes are half closed when he looks at him. They look like crescents, and Soobin thinks he belongs in space, like he always wants to be.

“Cheers,” Yeonjun gulps it all down.

They drink. They drink, and drink, and drink, until the songs change ten times and Soobin feels lightheaded. It’s hazy, but Yeonjun’s with him, and Soobin sees crystal clear.

It’s probably the beer or the heady rush of the party, but Soobin bravely takes his hand. “Junie, dance with me?”

Yeonjun looks surprised - his mouth agape, eyebrows shooting up questioningly, because Soobin doesn’t do this often. He doesn’t like attention and keeps quiet, but Yeonjun looks perfect - here, under the soft moonlight glow that Soobin can’t help it anymore.

The music is still loud, and in the balcony it’s only the two of them. Yeonjun smiles, and moves closer to him.

Like this, Yeonjun smells strongly of beer. He’s already gone, he can tell - his eyes dilating and open wide. Soobin doesn’t mind. This is a sober feeling.

Yeonjun holds on to his shoulders and dances like he has no control. Just flailing limbs rocking on his body, a raspy voice singing along to the singer’s upbeat note. Soobin laughs as he feels Yeonjun’s warmth seeping in.

Yeonjun throws his head back in ignorance - tight eyes, blissful, and his nails sharp on Soobin’s bones.

“Hey, it’s your birthday,” Soobin whispers quietly, just to the two of them, and stares at Yeonjun’s smeared lipstick on the edge of his mouth.

Yeonjun opens his eyes, a tiny peek, a glazed look only for him. “What do you mean?”

“Why are you still here?”

He stops. So sudden, Soobin would fall if Yeonjun didn’t have his grip on his shoulders.

“Everyone’s here for _you,_ ” Soobin says, takes a short gaze inside where everyone’s dancing. They’re all here, for _Yeonjun_ , and yet he’s here, dancing with Soobin in a balcony no one sees. “Why are you still dancing with me? You’re missing out on the party,” he says, feeling guilty all of a sudden. “You can go if you want.”

_You can dance with Kai if you want._

Yeonjun laughs, a sharp noise against the night. He wraps himself closer to Soobin, elbows on his shoulders, hands dragging on Soobin’s scalp, dainty fingers pulling softly on his hair.

“ _Oh, Binnie,_ ” he slurs, so close. “I’m not missing out on anything.”

“Okay,” Soobin says, even when his heart skips a beat.

Yeonjun’s face is flushed. But he doesn’t let go and step away. He lets the new closeness lingers - the sharp jut of his ribs on his, and Soobin holds his breath.

Soobin doesn’t know where to put his hands. Slowly, he puts them on Yeonjun’s waist, and it feels like another sip of cold beer on his tongue.

The music’s loud. It’s loud, and it stings, and Soobin’s head is swimming everywhere. Yeonjun’s not dancing anymore - his head resting comfortably on Soobin’s chest, hands floating loosely on the back of his neck.

The song changes again, a start of a playful and happy beat, and Yeonjun’s head snaps up.

“Binnie,” he says. Beer and constellations, in his mouth and in his eyes, and Soobin falls again. If he thinks about it right now, he thinks he already fell a long time ago. At a bus stop with a promise.

Right now, he can’t deny the burning taste of Yeonjun’s half-lidded, drunken gaze. Not here. Not anymore.

“Yeah?” Soobin asks quietly, starstruck. Yeonjun’s always been beautiful. This is how he always looks like to him. The purest form of beauty. Such a bare thing; against his body. Something he craves - underneath _years_ of staring at him, but seeing nothing. Years of Yeonjun’s face, but Soobin has never found the right words to name what he feels.

The lights are faint and subdued. Moonlight on his fingertips, the nameless ache now stuck between his teeth.

“I’m not missing out,” Yeonjun says again, and kisses him.

Soobin breathes on his mouth as relief washes over him - impatience worn thin, but now his hands are home and not caged anymore. A gasp swallowed down by Yeonjun’s open lips, and Soobin closes his eyes until they crash. Closer, _closer,_ until there’s nothing else that he feels except the flutter of Yeonjun’s hair and the smooth slope of his nose.

Yeonjun’s teeth knocks his, and it’s awkward and slippery, just a tad too eager, but Soobin lets himself be drowned by the thrill of it all - the eased daze of beer still in his skull, the soft jitter of his hands, how his ailing heartbeat thrums like it’s been to war.

Soobin doesn’t kiss him back, because he doesn’t know how to bear it through the shake of his body. He doesn’t kiss him back, but he lets Yeonjun’s lips plump against his, lets Yeonjun’s hands snake through his hair, a hard press of fingertips on his neck. He doesn’t kiss him back, but he lets Yeonjun takes it all.

He doesn’t kiss him back, because time runs out and Yeonjun pulls away before he got the chance.

Soobin doesn’t breathe. Yeonjun’s rests his forehead on his. He tastes and smells like beer, and Soobin thinks it’s sweet.

Yeonjun eyes are closed tight. “Junie?” he calls, thumbs poking his tummy.

Yeonjun slumps on his shoulder then, a complete surrender of his weight to Soobin’s body. Soobin shakes him worriedly, but Yeonjun only snores.

“You fell asleep right _now_?” Soobin whispers incredulously against his ear, taking hold of Yeonjun’s torso as he drags him inside. The party’s still in full swing, but Soobin ignores it and heads upstairs.

Yeonjun’s not usually heavy, but it’s still a feat when he’s unconsciousness and reliant to Soobin completely. He tries his best though, and when he arrives at Yeonjun’s darkly lit room, he puts him carefully on his bed.

He snuggles on his pillow, cheeks squished with heavy eyelids.

“Good night,” Soobin says softly, and realizes once and for all that he’s not drunk anymore. He stares at Yeonjun - sleeping, innocent, his lips red and tender. Soobin’s not drunk anymore.

He takes off his jacket and pulls the blanket up until it meets Yeonjun’s chin.

“Good night,” he says again, because there’s an ache that’s always been there, but Soobin’s been too oblivious to recognize it. He sees it now - even when Yeonjun smells like beer, and this room feels like space.

Yeonjun sleeps, but the night doesn’t end.

*

Soobin cleans up the house. It’s not too much of a chaos, just empty plastic cups with snacks scattered everywhere. Soobin stayed the night on Yeonjun’s bed like he always does, but he didn’t sleep a lot (he couldn’t), so he wakes up feeling groggy. He’s nervous, but he tries not to think about it. He focuses himself on tidying up the trash and making sure that Yeonjun’s parents won’t get mad after they see the mess. After a full hour, the living room looks fine, and there’s not much mess to see anymore.

Yeonjun woke up five times last night, feeling sick and throwing up in the bathroom. Soobin stays with him all those times, massaging his neck and bringing him water from the kitchen. Yeonjun holds his hand whenever they get back to his room, and Soobin’s heart somersaults deep inside of his skin.

He doesn’t know what to tell him. Maybe he wants to tell him that the kiss was nice. Maybe he has to apologize for not kissing him back. Maybe, _maybe_ , Soobin wants to ask him to do it again, and that will be the start of something new.

Soobin doesn’t know what to expect when Yeonjun finally wakes up. He’s nervous, _sure,_ but also excited. For _years_ , they’ve been dancing around it. Soobin thinks he always feels it. Whatever it is - but that _longing,_ suspenseful desire, everything about it - he’s felt all his life. The soft way Yeonjun pulled him in, the hitched breath in his throat when their mouths meet in the middle - Soobin’s dreamed about it. He’s known it since he was young, but never quite knew what the feeling was.

Yeonjun kissed him _first._ He kissed him _first_ , that means Yeonjun had always felt it, too.

Soobin’s heart leaps again, but it’s out of anticipation. He cleans the kitchen twice, and brings a glass of water with toast to the bedroom.

When he opens the door, Yeonjun’s smiling. The curtains are open, so sunlight streaks in and makes a home on Yeonjun’s skin.

He looks puffy and his eyes are sleepy.

“Hey,” Yeonjun says faintly.

“Hey,” Soobin comes closer and sits cross-legged on the edge of the bed. He puts breakfast on the bedside table. “Made you something to eat.”

Yeonjun chuckles and nuzzles the covers. “Thanks, Binnie,” he says gratefully.

“Drink up,” Soobin points at the glass of water. “You were sick all night.”

“Ah, I know,” Yeonjun groans against his pillow, closing his eyes again. “My head hurts so bad.”

“You still smell like beer,” Soobin points out, and his stomach flips at the reminder.

“Sorry,” Yeonjun winces, but straightens up until his back meets the headboard. The cover pools around his lap, and he puts his head on his hands. “I feel like shit.”

“You look like shit too,” Soobin retorts and laughs, even though it’s a lie.

Yeonjun’s bare faced, his hair askew and sticks out everywhere, tiredness in his gaze that should be unattractive, but Soobin still wants to kiss him again.

“Thanks,” Yeonjun says bitterly, but gives him a small smile. “How are you fine?”

“I didn’t drink as much as you.”

“ _Unfair.”_

“Drink the water,” Soobin takes the glass despite it being closer to Yeonjun and he can take it by himself, and shoves it on his hand. “Come on.”

Yeonjun stares at it sourly, but complies anyway and gulps it down in one go. He makes a disgruntled noise after it’s empty.

“Ew,” he shakes head. “As a best friend, you should _never_ let me drink again.”

Soobin laughs. “Okay.”

The morning light rests on Yeonjun’s eyelashes, dripping sun on his skin like a painting. Soobin purses his lips and thinks about how to begin, but decides to just go for it.

“Hey,” he starts.

Yeonjun raises a brow. “Yeah?”

“About last night - ”

Yeonjun unexpectedly cuts him off with a grimace. “No, _no,_ please don’t talk about that,” he snaps. “ _God_ , I’m so stupid.”

Soobin blinks at him, his stomach dropping. “What?”

“Yeah, last night never happened, okay?” Yeonjun demands and leans forward until their eyes meet ** _._** “Just pretend it never happened.”

It’s plain in Yeonjun’s face, bare, the emotionless tight of his lips. His eyes are blank, as though nothing about last night was worth talking about. Even worth addressing. Soobin involuntarily scoots back until the harsh silence is a distance away.

Yeonjun’s his best friend, what was he thinking? Of course that kiss didn’t mean anything.

“Okay,” Soobin says through the disappointment of his gritted teeth. If that’s what Yeonjun meant by the kiss , then _okay._ “Whatever you want.”

Yeonjun nods and brushes past it easily. Soobin doesn’t want to think about it anymore. A kiss in a balcony. A bus stop and a promise.

It’s fine. He spent seventeen years not in love with his best friend. He’ll do it again. That was just one night of too much beer and Soobin was a fool.

Yeonjun props his chin on his hand, acting like he didn’t just reject Soobin to his face. “Can you believe I’m eighteen now?”

Soobin shakes his head half-heartedly. “No,” he says.

There’s nothing else in his eyes. Not a hint of regret or guilt. This is Soobin’s first heartbreak: the kiss doesn’t mean anything.

Yeonjun kisses him on his eighteenth birthday party, and the night stretches.

*

Yeonjun wants to be an astronaut. Soobin wants to study abroad.

So they study together. Hours spent in Yeonjun’s room, on the porch of Soobin’s backyard - the shift of the sun and the moon, and Yeonjun talks about them as Soobin scribbles quietly on his book.

Right now, they’re at the library. Silent except for the drag of pencils on paper, or the occasional typing of keyboard. Yeonjun’s sitting beside him with a book on the table, eyebrows furrowing hard as his eyes drag over the text.

It’s cute. Soobin realizes that a lot these days.

Yeonjun’s cute. He’s cute when he tries and he’s still cute when he’s not. Effortless in all the ways that he is - an inherent attractiveness in the way he moves and talks and smiles, and maybe Soobin’s always been alight.

He closes his book. He hasn’t been paying attention anyway. Instead, it’s heavy eyes on Yeonjun’s hands. Curious gaze on the way the collar of his uniform flips a little on the inside.

He wants to reach out and fix it.

The door opens, and Kai comes in with Beomgyu on his tail. They’re laughing at something, a soft sound against the stillness of the air, and suddenly Soobin feels sick to his stomach.

They stop by a shelf and stay there for some time. Soobin doesn’t realize how long he’s watching until he sees a blur of movement in the corner of his eyes, and Yeonjun’s looking at them too.

“Lovesick fool,” Soobin hisses quietly, bitter almost. Yeonjun thwacks the palm of his hand.

“Shut up, you dumbass. They’re going to _hear._ ”

Soobin rolls his eyes, but doesn’t say anything else. Yeonjun’s gaze is soft. Exspectant - the kind you see when you’re waiting for the rain.

“Just talk to him,” Soobin says, despite himself. Yeonjun told him _it’s just a crush, he’ll get over it._ It’s high school. _He’ll get over it._

He tells himself the same thing. _It’s just a crush._ Soobin will get over it.

Yeonjun squints at him, then sighs. “I don’t want to bother.”

“You’re not going to bother him, Jun,” Soobin says. “He’ll like you back if you stop being a wimp.”

Yeonjun smacks him again, now on the arm. “At this point you’re just plainly insulting me.”

Soobin looks at him. Just a brief stare; as if he didn’t know every lines of Yeonjun’s face even with his eyes closed. He shakes his head, doesn’t know how else to say it. Frustrates him to no end.

“Yeonjun,” he breathes. “Who wouldn’t like you?”

Yeonjun doesn’t miss a beat, and tilts his head. “Kai.”

“Ugh,” Soobin groans, and shoves him out of his seat. “Just go, you dumbass.”

Yeonjun glares at him but goes anyway. Soobin looks as they finally meet. As if the sun and the moon align, and Soobin’s a sad astray star watching it happen. Hopelessly defenseless.

He’s too busy staring at them - two pair of eyes in the middle, and his gets stuck in the collision. He stares a beat too long, until he realizes a body sliding next to him. The sound of a chair grazing the floor, filling in the gaping space left by Yeonjun.

“Hey,” Beomgyu whispers.

Soobin blinks and turns his head to the soft voice. Beomgyu’s looking at him. Still with that doe eyes, brown curls resting above his eyebrows.

“Hey,” Soobin says, suddenly tongue-tied.

Beomgyu laughs, then opens his book calmly on the table. He shakes his head, mischief and mirth in his eyes that were never there before. Or Soobin just never paid enough attention.

But he is now, and Beomgyu always has that shine in his gaze. Like he’s holding a secret, and you have the right to dig it out of him.

“It’s annoying, isn’t it,” he says and leans forward, propping his chin on his open hands.

Soobin follows his trail of gaze. Yeonjun and Huening Kai leaning on the shelf - muffled laughs between them that Soobin don’t understand.

He nods, surprised that Beomgyu finds it annoying too. “Oh my god, yeah,” he affirms eagerly, unaware that he’s scooting closer - their chairs now inches apart. “Yeonjun can’t stop talking about Kai.”

Beomgyu winces and absentmindedly flips the page over. “Kai can’t stop talking about him too.”

Soobin gulps it down, like he always has. _He’ll get over it_. That kiss doesn’t mean anything.

Yeonjun’s his best friend. He’s happy for him.

“Wow,” he says, and Beomgyu nods.

“Yeah.”

Pink lips and doe eyes. Soobin leans back on his chair, and opens his book again.

“So,” he begins. Ignores the scene unfolding in front of him as he stares at the soft lines of Beomgyu’s fingers. “What are you reading?”

Beomgyu actually lights up at that. And they talk. The rest is history, but Soobin’s half listening and half burning. How bright it is. Two shining beings meet, and the rest is history.

Beomgyu is softer. He talks a lot, and Soobin knows Beomgyu would laugh louder if they weren’t in a library. He talks with his face and with his hands, and in his eyes there’s always something else dancing other than what he sees. Beomgyu is softer. Instead of the sun, he’s the rain. Spots of water on a tinted window that drip on dry sheets. Unassuming, but stark. Forces you to really look.

He doesn’t remember how long he stays in that little bubble of silence. Doesn’t remember when he moves to sit closer to him, can’t figure out when Beomgyu closes his book and they’re eye to eye and everything stops. All he knows is, at one point, Yeonjun taps his shoulder and Soobin blinks.

“Let’s go home,” Yeonjun says, then his eyes fall on Beomgyu. He raises a brow at that.

“Where’s Kai?”

“They’re going to do study together,” he points as Kai comes in sight. He takes the chair next to Beomgyu. Still blinding and distracting, but Soobin stops wondering.

“Okay,” Soobin says, then bids his goodbye to Beomgyu. He doesn’t say anything else.

*

They’ve been through this road before. Countless times than Soobin can even remember. If he really took his time, he could memorize the amount of pebbles his shoes graze.

Yeonjun is beside him, their arms touching even though it’s hot out. They’re sweating through their uniforms, but Yeonjun doesn’t give them space to be apart.

“So,” Soobin says. “How was the date?”

Yeonjun snorts and knocks his shoulder on his until Soobin loses his balance and sways aside. “Shut up,” he snaps, but Soobin only laughs. “We just talked.”

“Looked pretty serious.”

“It _wasn’t._ He’s just easy to talk to.”

“Sure.”

“You were _real_ cozy too,” Yeonjun’s voice lilts higher, teasing. “Had an excuse to snuggle in close like that, did you? I was afraid you guys were gonna eat each other’s face off, or something.”

Soobin kicks a pebble with the edge of his shoe and watchs it flings and lands somewhere in front of him. He didn’t know Yeonjun was watching them too.

“We just talked,” Soobin echoes it back, and Yeonjun gives him a look.

“ _Sure_.”

“I wasn’t going to have my first kiss in a library,” Soobin says quietly. Tries to ignore the loudness in his mind that reminds him he already had his. In a balcony where no one’s watching.

In a hopeful moment, Soobin wishes Yeonjun would say something. Tells him that it’s wrong. This is his chance, he thinks, for Yeonjun to speak about it if he wants to. Maybe he didn’t mean what he said.

Yeonjun doesn’t take the chance. He brushes past it like he did in his room.

 _Just pretend it never happened_.

“Why not?” Yeonjun bumps against him again, until the sleeves of their shirts bunch up and it’s skin on skin, and Soobin remembers it more than anything in his life. Remembers Yeonjun’s long fingers on his hair. His beer breath on his mouth. And then it’s his lips everywhere, stuck in Soobin’s brain like it’s meant to be there. “Sounds like it’d be a fun first kiss.”

Yeonjun had his, a year ago with a girl Soobin already forgets. He kissed her in a silly game of truth of dare, and Soobin fixed his gaze on Yeonjun’s face as he pulled away. He didn’t really understand why his stomach coiled hot like fire, but he does now. He knows why. The answer lies somewhere between the parted way of Yeonjun’s lips when he turned eighteen, but Soobin doesn’t know what to do with it anymore.

Soobin stares at Yeonjun’s shoelaces. He thinks he bought them with Soobin. Maybe he picked them out, too.

“Want it to be special, you know,” Soobin says, even though it was. He had his first kiss in a balcony, but it never happened. “A library doesn’t sound special.”

“It’ll be special,” Yeonjun mutters softly. “It _has_ to be special, because it’s _you_.”

“What do you mean?”

“Choi Soobin deserves nothing else but a special first kiss,” Yeonjun says, impossibly tender and honest. He looks at him then, and Soobin can’t figure out why there’s an underlying sadness there. Like the smile is a front. “It’ll be special. Don’t worry about it.”

Soobin doesn’t know what to say to that. He wants to tell him that it was. But he doesn’t want to think about it anymore.

“Okay,” he says. Skin on skin, and Soobin erases the balcony from his mind piece by piece. Stripping his memory of its bare picture. “Thanks, Junie.”

The walk to the bus stop never felt this long. The sun’s out, but it’s hot because Yeonjun still hasn’t let him go. Skin on skin, a lingering second before their lips meet.

_It never happened._

So it didn’t.

It’s just Yeonjun. It’s Yeonjun, his best friend in the entire world. It’s Yeonjun, the boy who cried at the bus stop when everyone laughed at his silly dream.

Soobin never thought it was silly.

It was never silly for him. He’d be his right hand man thirty years from now. Eighty years even, when he’s nothing else but brittle bones and an disillusioned kiss still burned to the back of his mind.

“Where to today, pilot?”

Yeonjun falters like he’s surprised, but a light laugh frees out of his mouth like that same air when he cried at the bus stop almost six years ago. “Earth,” he says determinedly. “I want to be with my best friend today.”

The fort they used to build. The galaxy in front of them as they stare outside of their safe spaceship, and Yeonjun’s speaking inside of his suit. Soobin’s watching quietly by the sideline, and at some point the galaxy shifted and he saw it in the flicker of Yeonjun’s open gaze instead.

Soobin doesn’t remember how they met. He was too young. Yeonjun tells people they’ve just always known each other. He tells them he simply met Soobin in his heart, back before they were even born. A simple familiarity and inherent recognition.

 _We kinda just already know each other_ , that’s what Yeonjun says.

He asked mom one day, but she doesn’t remember either. It’s like they’ve always been stuck together and maybe they were. They still are.

“Earth it is,” Soobin says, and there’s the smell of beer on the back of his neck. Lisptick-smudged lips on his cheek.

“Earth it is,” Yeonjun says. A ghostly whisper against skin, and Soobin lets it go.

_It never happened._

The sun’s out and hot, but Soobin’s never been burned.

*

Yeonjun said it’s just a crush and he’ll get over it.

But it’s been a month now, and his feelings are tenfold.

He talks about Kai when they study. He talks about Kai when Soobin’s quiet and the night is silent. He talks about Kai during first period and the second, and when they walk home, Yeonjun tells him about a boy and the moon, and how he thinks he’s falling in love.

Soobin doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t say anything because there’s nothing to say. But also because he has more to say, and nothing’s right.

He gets it, is the thing. He probably gets it more than anyone.

Kai is still perfect as ever. Loud eyes. Bright laugh. Blinding smile. He laughs smooth like alcohol, and he can’t blame Yeonjun for being intoxicated.

No wonder Yeonjun likes him. They both look like they exist in the same orbit. Soobin knows he doesn’t shine like that.

So he doesn’t say anything. He listens to Yeonjun gush about him, and Soobin thinks about how the moon stared at them back as Yeonjun leaned a little too close.

It’s been a month. But he smells beer wherever he goes.

It’s Friday evening when Yeonjun skips around the hallway excitedly. He’s bouncing on his feet with his hands on the straps of his backpack. A smile on his lips as he waits for Soobin to gather his things.

“Come on, why are you slow,” Yeonjun whines, then pouts. Smacks Soobin’s arm with the sweater paws of his hoodie, and Soobin smacks him back with his book.

“This isn’t fair, you’re bigger than me,” Yeonjun whines again, but then wraps himself tightly on Soobin’s back like a koala. A cheek squished on his shoulder blade.

“You’re literally making it harder for me to go any faster, you jackass,” Soobin tries to disentangle himself from Yeonjun, but he’s sticky like glue, and he’s always been stronger than him anyway.

“Come on, let’s go _home_ ,” Yeonjun cries petulantly, but doesn’t let him go. It even seems like he’s making himself comfortable, so Soobin just lets him. He zips his bag when he finishes and carries it on his hand because his back’s a little preoccupied.

Then Yeonjun steps away. So abruptly, that Soobin stumbles a little and knocks the locker.

Yeonjun’s suddenly smiling bright and waving his hand. Soobin follows his line of sight.

There’s Kai. Kai’s walking to the other side of the hall, and he’s smiling too. But he’s not looking at Soobin. Of course not.

But Beomgyu is. Beomgyu’s beaming at him. There’s a newfound recognition and friendliness in his gaze. Whenever they study in the library and Yeonjun goes to talk to Kai, Beomgyu silently slides into the chair next to him and they talk. He’d say that they’re friends now. Between hushed whispers and muffled laughs in the air, he’d say that they’re friends.

Soobin thinks Beomgyu’s nice. Yeah. He’s nice. That’s a word.

They finally pass by, their shadows disappearing, and Yeonjun’s blushing. Rosy cheeks that look familiar, somehow. Soobin finally slips his backpack on his shoulders as they walk.

“Lovesick fool,” Soobin bumps him. He starts counting pebbles again. He doesn’t know at what count did he start feeling this way about his best friend. He wonders if it started at zero or the thousand and would it matter in the end.

“ _You too_. Look at you, all friendly with someone else,” Yeonjun coos, but Soobin only shrugs. “I think you guys look good together.”

Soobin shrugs again. “Sure.”

It doesn’t take long. The walk from school to the bus stop. It takes more time from the bus stop to Yeonjun’s house, but they share an earphone as the scenery rolls in. Yeonjun always picks the songs. Lately, he’s been listening to a lot of love songs.

Soobin doesn’t ask him. He listens to the love songs, and finds himself relating to them too.

Yeonjun doesn’t like sleeping alone. So at night, when they’ve studied and eaten until their bellies are full and warm, Yeonjun cuddles close to him.

“Let’s watch Interstellar,” Soobin suggests as he types on Yeonjun’s laptop with difficulty. It’s a little hard, always has been, because Yeonjun’s bed is actually for one but they’ve never really cared. “What do you think?”

Yeonjun smiles, even when Soobin doesn’t see it. “A man after my own heart.”

Soobin clicks play. “Of course,” he says, but means it a little more.

The room is already dark, the way Yeonjun likes it. As the movie starts, Yeonjun snuggles closer and Soobin slumps against the pillow.

They’ve watched this movie a lot before. It’s one of Yeonjun’s favorites because it’s about space, and it’s Soobin’s favorite simply because Yeonjun loves it so much. The length stretches to almost three hours and it’s predictable because they’ve seen it too many times, but Yeonjun still watches like it’s his first time. He gasps when anything thrilling happens, and holds Soobin’s hand when the music reaches its crescendo.

Soobin still cries when Cooper watches the videos, and Yeonjun sobs into his shirt when they see Murph again. When the credits roll and the screen turns pitch black, the room becomes space once again and Soobin becomes twelve all over.

Yeonjun takes the laptop from his lap and puts it back to the table. When he comes back to the bed, Soobin gets shoved to the edge and into the wall.

“That never gets old,” Yeonjun whispers.

They don’t play pretend anymore because Yeonjun’s eighteen and he’s seventeen, and eighteen and seventeen years old boys don’t do that.

Except, Soobin stares at where the ceiling would be and finds himself floating. They’re back in their spaceship, safe and sound, and Soobin wasn’t confused about anything.

He’s twelve and Yeonjun’s just his best friend.

He’s twelve and he’s not in love with his best friend.

He’s twelve, and Yeonjun puts his forehead on Soobin’s shoulder, and he says, “Would you watch over me?”

Soobin never hesitated, so he doesn’t. An easy nod, with an easy sigh. “I’ll watch over you.”

There are stars when he looks out. There are stars; thousand stirring lights that never blinded him. He turns his head to look at Yeonjun, and even when it’s pitch dark, he’s hued.

“Junie,” Soobin says. They’re twelve, and Yeonjun’s always wanted to be an astronaut. He thinks it’s because Yeonjun wants to see _more._ It’s not enough here. It’s never enough here.

“Yeah?”

“Come with me,” Soobin breathes. “Apply abroad too.”

He wants to study abroad because his mom did. He loves the idea of spreading his horizon and sees more people and more scenery and more skies. It’s been his dream since he was a kid when his mom told him about her college life in America and how it was so much fun. He remembers being six with his little hands tightly clutching mom’s pretty polaroid photos. He remembers telling himself that he wants it more than anything.

Yeonjun moves, and now there’s a hand on his skin. They can’t see each other, but Soobin feels him like he always did.

“What?”

“Let’s see the world together,” Soobin says. They’ve been here all their life. He wants to bring him everywhere, he thinks. Even the space wouldn’t be enough.

Yeonjun doesn’t say anything for a moment that the silence echoes.

“Okay,” Yeonjun says then.

“Okay?”

“Yeah, okay.”

Yeonjun flops back on the bed, but doesn’t stray too far. Their shoulders still touch. The bed’s too small for two, but Yeonjun’s hand finds his in the dark and that’s how it’s always been.

Soobin’s twelve, except he’s not.

He _wasn’t_ in love with his best friend. He wasn’t. And here he is in six years time at a moonlit balcony with a night that never ends.

He’s seventeen, he’s supposed to be irrationally head over heels in love with a boy, and he’ll get over it. That’s what first love is, isn’t it? _You’re supposed to get over it._

Soobin holds his hand back, and _one day,_ when someone asks Soobin about his first kiss, Yeonjun would say that it’s him. The smell of beer wouldn’t nauseate him anymore, and it would just be alcohol.

“Earth kinda sucks,” Soobin mumbles.

Yeonjun laughs, and they’re back in their spaceship. He’s seventeen but its always dark out.

*

School is school.

School is boring and pressuring, and sometimes Soobin fantasizes about _finally_ getting out of this hellhole. The only thing driving him is his faraway dream.

Yeonjun said yes to it. He said yes to Soobin’s dream and now it’s theirs. He’s always been persistent, but now that he has another dream to catch up, he’s relentless. He scolds Soobin when he’s slacking off, and reads to him when Soobin’s too tired. Yeonjun’s calming voice lulling through his bedroom, and Soobin imagines it in his head.

What a life it would be. To have Yeonjun around with him in each dusk. To have Yeonjun like that; in such an anchored way. That no matter where they are, they’ll be together. That’s how it’s always been anyway.

Soobin is going to study abroad one day - in a sky more blue, in an air more cool, and Yeonjun would be there with him. So he lives everyday with that in mind.

He’ll live that dream. One day, they’ll be in a world where Soobin wants him most, and nothing would be play pretend. It would be _real,_ and it would ache, but it wouldn’t hurt.

All dreams are attainable. Everyone tells him that since he was young. All dreams are attainable. This is Soobin’s dream: Yeonjun in an open field, their hands tied and warm, and he stops being seventeen. He’ll stop being seventeen, and it’s not night anymore. It’s a bright morning, and he sees the sun. 

So when exams start coming around, Soobin spends most of the weeks leading up to it studying earnestly with Yeonjun. Hours in library, hours in his front porch, hours in Yeonjun’s too small bed. Soobin doesn’t even have the chance to be stressed about it, because his brain is fried and his hands are tired.

It’s a lot easier when Yeonjun’s with him. He studies quietly, just the easy sound of the flipping pages, his silent presence grounding. Sometimes, Soobin puts down his book for an overbearing second, and simply drinks him in.

Yeonjun pouts when he concentrates. A small pucker of his lips as his finger tap the edge of the book’s cover absentmindedly. Soobin thinks he’d watch him like that for a few hours more. A lifetime more, just Yeonjun with his stripped sound.

They text each other a reminder to study every night. Yeonjun calls him when he’s finished, and they talk until the night becomes heavy, and Soobin falls asleep with Yeonjun’s voice lulling him to sleep.

“Night, Binnie,” something delicate, but it gets swallowed by the moon.

Beomgyu sits beside him when school’s done and the library is filled with whispers and chairs grazing the floor. He doesn’t talk to him, but their eyes always meet, and Soobin ducks his head to stare at the floating words in his book instead because that’s the easier thing to do.

It’s hard to avoid. The pressure and expectation, but Soobin listens to Yeonjun’s soft breathing when they study against the wall that meets his bed, their feet dangling by the side. He listens to it, and focuses on what lies ahead.

By the time the exams come, Soobin isn’t ready because he will never be. He looks at Yeonjun the morning of the first day, but Yeonjun silently tangles their fingers together and the ride to school isn’t too frightening. Yeonjun brings him to his favorite palour and treats him ice cream, so he won’t stress too much about the next day.

“Don’t worry about it,” Yeonjun soothes at night, and pats his head. “You’ll do great.”

Soobin looks at him through his eyelashes. Nods through the thickness in his throat, and believes him.

The next few days are better. Yeonjun holds his hand even tighter, smiles warmer, and Soobin does his best, because that’s the only thing he can do. One day, before it starts, Beomgyu approaches him.

“Good luck, Soobin,” he says with a smile. Sweet and unexpected.

“You too,” he replies sincerely, and watches Beomgyu go. Yeonjun presses closer to him, everything’s fine for the shortest second, and it’s back to reality.

The last second before the last day ends, Yeonjun hugs him. Everyone gathers around them; the crowd sizzling, loud steps, hushed screaming. But Yeonjun crashes into him easily, until their bodies are something light and his love is voiceless amidst everything else.

“Home?” Yeonjun whispers against his ear, and the pent up stress finally bleeds out.

Soobin counts pebbles again. He counts the first one by Yeonjun’s foot, and he is on his thirtieth count when Yeonjun brushes his palm against him, like he always has.

Their fingers are something similar. Similar in the way that they find solace in each other’s hold, and it’s empty and cold when they aren’t together.

Yeonjun’s thumb on top of his, and Soobin’s is already home. “Binnie, you’ll see the world with me, right?” he asks quietly, like there was ever a choice.

Soobin’s open field, Soobin’s one desire. Soobin’s gentle sunlight, and Yeonjun’s the center of it all.

“If you’ll have me,” he answers, just as quiet.

Yeonjun stares at him; unblinking, heartfelt, with it an unsaid weight. Then he smiles; simple, safe, with it a bus stop and a promise from six years ago.

He doesn’t have to say anything else. Soobin knows it too well. They don’t drift too far, and Soobin tallies the pebbles under Yeonjun’s shoes.

He never remembers how many pebbles it takes to go home, because it always ends at zero.

*

When Soobin turns eighteen, Yeonjun holds his hand through their neighbourhood.

It’s such a comforting thing. To feel Yeonjun’s palm on his. Soobin remembers the first time he felt him like this, and Yeonjun’s hand was still as warm.

The night is silent. Almost like everyone’s asleep, and they’re the only people awake. As if it’s theirs. The starkness cold of it; the silence. Muted buzzing of the city like it shimmers quietly for them. So they can have it all without disruption.

Yeonjun’s thumb prodes his skin. Sharp drag of his nail that feels serene more than anything else.

There’s a smile on Yeonjun’s lips. His hair is messy again. Strands of black hair on his forehead that covers his eyebrows. If he thinks about it, he wants to tuck them behind his ears. Maybe that’s all he wants. Just another chance, another touch, another thrill in his heart to have Yeonjun’s eyes on him again. Maybe that’s all Soobin needs. Just another, and another, and another, because nothing’s enough when it comes to Yeonjun.

“Where are we going?” Soobin finally asks halfway, and Yeonjun holds his hand tighter. A free laugh escapes him and his chest shakes. Soobin laughs with him.

“I don’t know,” Yeonjun giggles with a shake of his head. Then presses close. Arms touching, elbows knocking, and Soobin loses control.

“What do you mean you _don’t_ know?” Soobin asks incredulously. It’s almost midnight, they’re strolling mindlessly, and Yeonjun’s laughing like there’s nothing else that brings him joy than this. A simple happiness in existing. Just them against the night. Just them, the expanse of the galaxy in their hearts, and Yeonjun’s still laughing.

“I mean _I don’t know_ ,” Yeonjun repeats, then crashes into him. A colliding star into his unblinking light. “We’re going nowhere, Soobin.”

Soobin’s heart is full. The night is theirs. His best friend is here, with him, a warm hand wrapped around his knuckles.

“We’re going to get lost,” Soobin says, but doesn’t mind it. He’d get lost anywhere with him.

“Aren’t we all, fundamentally, _already_ lost?”

Soobin bumps into him until Yeonjun stumbles back, but holds onto his hand before he could fall. Warmth in it he’d struggle to get over.

Yeonjun stops in the middle of street. And then smiles at him. That sickly, sugar smile. The one that lingers more. The one that sticks and hovers long after it’s gone.

“What?” Soobin raises his brow at him, tugging him in until Yeonjun moves closer.

If there were stars tonight, Soobin wouldn’t know. The night’s pretty but it doesn’t matter.

Yeonjun breathes him in. So close, it feels like a mirror to a silhoutte four months ago. “It’s your birthday,” he says softly. “Happy birthday, Binnie.”

Soobin’s heart splits. Quietly, because it’s a secret. No one has to know. No one has to know that he’s in love with his best friend, and there’s nothing else that he wants except for _another_ , and _another_ , and _another_ second more to birthday party that still stretches.

“Thank you,” he whispers.

“Close your eyes.”

“What?”

“Close your eyes.”

Soobin does. Feels the world shut as his eyelids sink. Yeonjun lets go of his hand, but Soobin stays still.

“We made a promise to watch over each other,” Yeonjun says and resonates to the night. “So I got you something.”

Yeonjun presses something small to the palm of his hand. He opens his eyes.

It’s a keychain. A keychain of a telescope. Soobin drags his finger carefully through the shiny surface. There are engraved initials on it. _SB & YJ, _theirs _._ The telescope is light and doesn’t weigh like anything, but he holds his breath.

“Oh,” and he finally lets it go.

Yeonjun looks at him expectantly, a faint smile on his familiar lips. “What do you think? I got it made special for you.”

Soobin looks at him back. Awed and teary-eyed. He closes his hand around the keychain. “It’s perfect,” and feels those concave of their names deep inside of his heart.

“I got a set, one for me too,” Yeonjun fishes his pocket and puts out another keychain. It’s earth. Blue and circular, reflective under the lamp post light. “So you can watch over me. And I’ll watch over you.”

Soobin laughs and holds his hand again. Yeonjun easily wraps himself around his skin, and puts his keychain next to Soobin’s. They both stare silently. Two keychains held by two hands of two best friends.

“I love it,” Soobin says, but there’s always more to say. He doesn’t say it.

“I’m the best best friend ever,” Yeonjun chuckles, a delicate sound, and knocks his earth to Soobin’s telescope.

“What does that make me?”

“You’re the best friend of the best best friend ever.”

Soobin drags him away again. The night looms, the streets never-ending, and Yeonjun’s hand is something achingly dear.

“You have an hour until your birthday ends,” Yeonjun says. “What else do you want?”

He thinks about a birthday party and how it hasn’t ended yet. He still hears it in his head. The bumps of the music and the soft breaths out of Yeonjun’s mouth. Still feels the balcony closing in with the moon peeking. How Yeonjun’s fingers drag on his scalp and nothing else has ever felt real.

 _Am I allowed to want this_ , Soobin craves. He looks at Yeonjun now, and suddenly it’s hard to think about. The blush on his cheeks against the wind, and Soobin’s back to counting pebbles.

“This is enough,” he says. They’re walking again but the world opens its eyes. He stares at the tender light of the city but they’re not the only people awake. They never were. “We’ve eaten cake. You’ve given me your present. It’s enough, Junie.”

“Okay,” Yeonjun says, and doesn’t let go.

Yeonjun takes him forward. Until the streets become foreign and the air turns stale. Maybe they’re lost.

“Where are we, pilot?”

Yeonjun twirls and laughs. In his hand is the earth still dangling softly on his wrist. Soobin feels it. Feels himself drawn to space, and Yeonjun’s body is on him again.

“I don’t know,” Yeonjun hums. Soobin’s the right hand man, and he’d follow him anywhere. Even to the edge of the world. Even further than that.

Yeonjun doesn’t know, but that’s okay. No one really knows anyway.

“Let’s see the stars,” Soobin suggests. Yeonjun drags him away again, and Soobin still lets him.

And suddenly Soobin’s eighteen too. They’re both now eighteen, but he’s stuck being seventeen in a birthday party that’s still loud and alive.

*

Soobin gifted Yeonjun an oversized pastel sweater for his birthday four months ago.

Inside Huening Kai’s box with the pretty bow atop it was a watch. It’s a simple watch. Small, brownish, the clock’s fingers thin and slender.

It’s quite a juxtaposition to see Yeonjun wear both today. Yeonjun strides to his house with that sweater hugging his frame, and when he raises his hand, Soobin sees it. Kai’s watch wrapped tightly around his wrist like it belongs.

Like salt to a healing wound. A reminder that there is something _else_ that nags.

“You’re wearing his watch,” Soobin points out.

“Yeah.”

Soobin doesn’t mention it again. Yeonjun doesn’t take the sweater off on the way to school. Walking side by side, the watch keeps knocking harshly on Soobin’s hand.

It’s a little dark out when school is finished, and he’s counting pebbles again. The metallic taste of Yeonjun’s watch still stings on his skin, but Soobin gulps it down like he always has.

“Soobin! Wait up!”

He turns around to see Beomgyu running to him with small skips of his feet. He heaves a breath and Soobin looks at him curiously.

“Hey, sorry, didn’t mean to hold you off, but - ” Beomgyu stops to unzip his bag. He takes out a velvety box and puts it in Soobin’s hold. His cheeks turn a rosy color. “It’s, uh, for your birthday. I know it was last week, but I didn’t have time to get you anything but, uh, so, here you go. For you.”

Soobin dazedly stares at it in his hands. There’s a pretty bow too, like Huening Kai’s box. No one has ever gifted him anything for his birthday aside from Yeonjun.

“Oh,” Soobin croaks.

Beomgyu looks at him expectantly. Once again Soobin’s waiting for the rain, and there’s a sweet smile on his pink lips.

“Beomgyu, I,” he starts, but he’s too touched to say anything else.

“Yes?” Beomgyu tilts his head, and smiles brighter.

“Thank you,” Soobin manages to say, and looks between the box to Beomgyu’s doe eyes. “I didn’t expect you to give me anything. You really shouldn’t have.”

“I wanted to,” Beomgyu says softly. “I really hope you like it, Soobin.”

Soobin nods sincerely. “I will,” even though he doesn’t know what’s inside.

Beomgyu gives him a playful thumbs up and brown curls bounce happily on his forehead. “Happy birthday once again,” he says. “Bye! See you tomorrow.”

He greets Yeonjun once before going out of his way and disappears.

“Oh my god,” Yeonjun gasps and tugs his arm, the watch meeting Soobin’s skin again, but for the first time that day it doesn’t sting. “Oh my god, Soobin! _He totally likes you!_ He was! Blushing! And he got you a present! Your birthday was _last week_! Soobin, you can’t deny it anymore. _He likes you!_ ”

Soobin listens to Yeonjun’s incessant excitement, and Soobin doesn’t brush it off. He listens to Yeonjun gush about how Beomgyu always lights up when Soobin’s there and how he always knew from the start.

He wonders how Yeonjun picked up the signs but can’t see that Soobin’s _here_. How he saw Beomgyu’s blush but never noticed that Soobin has always been here.

“Yeah,” he agrees in the end. When Yeonjun stops, Soobin looks him in the eyes. “I think I like him too.”

It’s easy to say when he wants it to be true. He thinks about pink lips with doe eyes and finds himself content with that.

*

Time flies. Time flies when you’re eighteen and life is around the corner.

Beomgyu’s gift is a notebook. Soobin uses it for everything. Inside the box was a little paper attached. _I know you like to take notes so I hope this helps_ :D _Happy birthday, Soobin._

And it does help. It actually helps a lot. The notebook is cute; cartoon bears on the edges of the paper and on the cover. It reminds him a lot of Beomgyu, and whenever his pencil drags across the paper, he subconsciously thinks about him. One day, when he’s talking notes on the library, Beomgyu slides next to him like he always does. He notices the notebook, and smiles.

Beomgyu has a nice voice. It’s deep and low, but when he laughs it’s buttery and melts against Soobin’s better judgement. He whispers in the library, but Soobin’s been hearing his voice a lot outside of it. Yeonjun excuses himself during lunch to eat with Kai, and Beomgyu slides next to him again. Soobin stares as Yeonjun laughs at something that Kai says, burning and bitter all over; but Beomgyu talks like it’s raining, and Soobin makes do.

Beomgyu has pretty hands. They’re bony and slender, purples veins popping, and Soobin looks at them when he doesn’t have anything else to do. When Beomgyu talks, Soobin follows the lines of his knuckles and thinks about another pair of hands on the back of his neck when the moon was out, and the smell of beer was rough.

Time flies. Time flies, and suddenly it’s New Year’s Eve and they’re back at the beach.

Yeonjun’s wearing his pastel sweater but he’s not wearing Kai’s watch. He left it at home. Soobin doesn’t know if he has the right to feel lightheaded because of it.

He has his feet on the sand. Trickles of the ocean on his skin. Soobin watches quietly. The horizon ahead and the salt on his lungs. He’s eighteen, he’s _only_ eighteen, but it’s heavy. It’s heavy because he’s eighteen. It’s heavy but he’s eighteen, and life is nowhere near the end.

“What are your resolutions?” Yeonjun asks from beside him. He’s squinting, wet hair on golden skin, and Soobin thinks about it.

“You go first,” Soobin walks closer, until sea water pierces his ankles, and that familiar ache comes rushing in.

“Okay,” Yeonjun hums. Arms touching, skin on skin, back in a hidden balcony where no one’s watching. The moon’s not out yet but he feels its presence cold. “Resolution number one: graduate with flying colors.”

Soobin nods and agrees. That’s what he wants too. So he tells him. “Yeah. Same.”

Yeonjun bumps into him. Chuckles into his heart like the impending sunset. “Cheater. Go make your own.”

He laughs, and nods again. Listens and waits for Yeonjun’s number two.

“Get accepted abroad,” Yeonjun lists another. Soobin’s heart clenches as he thinks about his dream. It’s by the horizon; that field with the sun. He just needs to reach out. One hand out to it, the other on Yeonjun’s. They’ll reach it together.

Yeonjun told him he wants to study Linguistics. Soobin wants to be a teacher. An open field with the sun; in his head, they’re already there. Albeit blurry, still painfully present.

“Okay, what’s the third?” Soobin asks as he turns his head to look at him. Yeonjun shrugs.

“I don’t know,” he says fondly, like it’s already etched somewhere in his mind, but he’s thinking about how to say it. The waves break on the shore. Another sprinkle of salt, another reminder. “To be with you, I guess.”

“What do you mean?”

“My third wish: to have you here with me.”

Soobin squints as the light slowly fades. The sky becoming less of a painting; just an evidence of something bigger. “But I am already here with you.”

Yeonjun laughs. Freeing against the caged night. It’s still an evening picture, but the night has no choice but to come. It will come. Just a little more time.

“I know,” Yeonjun says tenderly. Then a hand against him. Fingers hovering lightly on his. There, but not touching. “I just mean: always. I want you here with me always.”

Soobin fists his hand. Gulps it down, and stares as the sun finds a home somewhere else. “That’s your third wish?”

“Yeah,” he nods and stares at him. Nothing else but a happy smile. Soobin sees the wish there. “That okay with you?”

Soobin shakes his head. That’s his wish too. That’s his wish a thousand times over. “Of course. I’ll be here, Junie.”

The ocean’s loud. It’s loud and grounding, so Soobin takes the time to breathe.

“Your turn.”

“Okay.”

_I want to forget how your mouth felt against mine._

“Graduate,” Soobin echoes him. “with flying colors, too. I want good grades but I want good memories more. I want to spend my last year happy.”

Yeonjun giggles. “Okay, fair. What else?”

_Your sweater. I want you to always wear it._

_This. this. I want: this. I want sunsets with you. I want ocean water on my feet._

_I want your smile on me. I want you. I want you, I think. yeah, that’s it. That’s what I want, Yeonjun._

“Study abroad with you,” Soobin stares as another wave breaks. Just a few months after they went here the last time, but it sounds different. Everything is different. Even his heart.

“We’ll do it,” Yeonjun says quietly.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, because it’s _us_. What can’t we do together, Soobin?”

Soobin toes at the sand and nods. A pilot and his right hand man. They’ll do great things together. Of course they will.

“What’s next?”

“Mm?”

“What’s your third wish?”

“Oh,” Soobin says.

There’s something left. Something left, but he doesn’t quite know how to make it sound okay. Something insistent that contradicts everything else.

 _I want to get over you_.

“No,” Soobin mumbles. “That’s it.”

And that’s it. Yeonjun doesn’t ask more, and Soobin doesn’t say it out loud. The sun sinks lower and lower until the sky becomes bare.

Yeonjun holds his hand then. Palms against each other as they walk back to their spot. Far up the ocean that it looks grander that it really is.

It’s New Year’s Eve. Another year is ending from his life, and Soobin is scared he’ll never know how to catch up with it. If he really thinks about it, he’s still in that bus stop six years ago and his uniform was lighter and whiter and innocent. If he really thinks about it, Yeonjun was still an astronaut and their spaceship was theirs alone.

They spend the rest of the night together. Yeonjun tells him stories to make Soobin laugh. He talks with his hands and Soobin watches the muscles on his hands move. It’s always mesmerizing, a privilege to simply watch him. Even wordlessly. A silent observation until Soobin is stunned all over again. Yeonjun is something divine; he’s a planet of his own. Soobin would like to trace his hand on each of his tendons and marks which is the sun, the moon, which spot of his knees are the asteroids. He thinks Yeonjun’s eyes would be gravity, and his cheekbones are the landing spot.

“Binnie,” Yeonjun says quietly. It’s loud. Everyone’s partying, laughter everywhere, the beach full and the shore merriful. It’s a celebration. Fireworks are starting to go off; multicolors light on dark sleeves.

“Yeah?”

“What time is it?”

Soobin unlocks his phone. It’s eleven.

“One hour left,” he says.

“Okay.”

So they wait. Yeonjun leans on his shoulder. They stare silently as everyone else celebrates. A tiny spot on the sand of two best friends; waiting. For more fireworks to set off. For another year to set in.

“I can’t remember how I met you,” Yeonjun says against him. His voice is muffled but brighter than anything else.

“I can’t either,” Soobin stares at Yeonjun’s bare feet. There’s a faint scar on his ankle when he fell from his bike a decade ago. He wonders if he still feels the impact. Soobin wasn’t there but he feels it now.

“Binnie,” Yeonjun begins with a shudder. “Promise me something.”

“Of course.”

“Let’s be like this forever?”

Forever. Forever is a long time. Forever is a long time, but Soobin doesn’t feel its weight. Soobin nods easily and offers him his pinky. Yeonjun smiles at it and hooks his.

“I promise,” he says, because he’s eighteen and it’s easy to hope. All he knows is he’d go back to this beach every year and celebrate New Year with Yeonjun over and over again if that’s what he wants.

“I promise too,” Yeonjun says it back. Soobin holds on to it.

“We’ll be like this until we’re too old to remember anything else,” Soobin chuckles and imagines Yeonjun in a rocking chair with his cute wrinkles and a youthful laugh that will remind him of the old days. “Don’t worry about it.”

“I do worry, though,” Yeonjun says in a small voice and knocks his forehead on Soobin’s shoulder, like he always has. “I worry a lot.”

Soobin knows. Yeonjun told him once in his bedroom one night, and Soobin never forgets. He knows Yeonjun worries about their last year. The gaping future that seems dark and alone.

“I’ll be here with you,” Soobin promises again.

Yeonjun nods, assured. Nothing doubtful about it. “Okay.”

Soobin holds Yeonjun’s hand. It has always been smaller than his. Yeonjun absentmindedly traces his finger on each bump. Long nails on his skin, sharp like salt water.

“I’m so lucky you’re my best friend,” Yeonjun says easily as if it would never change.

Soobin smiles, and warms. Not kindly though. “You are.”

They wait for another hour until the fireworks are the loudest. Yeonjun brings him up, and they’re standing side by side under the sky. It’s crowded, too many people, too many voices - but Yeonjun’s beside him, and the explosions don’t quite bother him like they should. Yeonjun stays close to him, his laugh an axis even through the deafening rumble of the fireworks. He points excitedly to the sky, at one particular firework exploding midair, but Soobin isn’t looking.

Soobin’s looking, but it’s the fireworks inside of him that he thinks about. It’s brown hair on golden skin, starry eyes that don’t look at him back but Soobin adores anyway. It’s skin on skin, red lips, a moonlit balcony with nothing more but Soobin’s aching bones.

This is what he wants, he thinks. A full, electrifying night. But Yeonjun’s here, serenity in his quietness, and Soobin trips on pebbles.

“Happy new year, Junie,” he says. It’s loud, everything’s alight, but Yeonjun hears him anyway. He finally stops to look at him back.

His eyes are explosive. Still bright and tender. Yeonjun spares him more than a second, even though Soobin knows he wants to see the fireworks more. He looks at him long enough that Soobin feels the sparks above on his throat too, like everything he never got to say. “Happy new year, Binnie,” and it’s softer than he ever sounded.

Soobin stares. He stares at the smile on Yeonjun’s lips and the cherry of his cheeks. He stares as the fireworks drip on their skin, and wonders if this is how it will always be.

This is what he wants, but something else always nags.

 _I want to get over you_.

_*_

So, he tries.

When Yeonjun walks away from him and Soobin only sees his back, he diverts his gaze somewhere else. He scoots closer to Beomgyu and lets his smooth voice captivates him more than he ever wanted. The library is always quiet, but he pays more attention to the lilt and drag of Beomgyu’s voice than he was used to. Beomgyu smiles a lot, he realizes, and it’s so much more toothy than Yeonjun’s, but Soobin stops there, and starts over. Beomgyu smiles a lot, and it’s pretty. Beomgyu’s _nice_ \- a word, and then another word. _Pretty_. Beomgyu’s pretty too.

Soobin tries. He tries his damn best. Yeonjun talks to him on the way home and sometimes Kai’s watch still drags on his skin, but Soobin doesn’t think about it. Tight lips, and a step further to the left, and he feels the watch less frequently. It doesn’t burn because Soobin makes sure there’s always space between them now and he convinces himself that a little distance doesn’t hurt.

Day by day, Soobin sees more of Beomgyu’s smile, hears more of Beomgyu’s laughs, and feels more of his skin than he ever did. Beomgyu peeks a little when Soobin’s hunched down writing on his notebook and he always lets him. He lets him until Beomgyu’s closer than he ever was, arms touching, breaths warm and slow.

Beomgyu sits close to him now. He sits close until their elbows meet, and whenever Soobin flips to the next page, their bare skin shift and kiss. It doesn’t burn, not because it doesn’t hurt, but because it doesn’t feel like anything. Bare skin on skin, but it doesn’t feel unholy.

“What are you reading?” Soobin always asks, and Beomgyu always lights up.

He always answers, and Soobin always listens. He listens to Beomgyu talk until it’s the only voice that he could memorize. He listens to Beomgyu talk until he remembers pouty pink lips and not beer breath. He stares at pretty doe eyes that are kinder than he deserves, and Soobin forgets a lot more.

When school’s over, eager students rush out with the bells ringing loud. Soobin’s not an exception. His uniform’s sweaty and gross, he just wants to go _home._ Either that, or another movie marathon on Yeonjun’s bed until the exhaustion dissipates and he’d doze off peacefully into the night.

But Yeonjun’s not here. He’s not here. He doesn’t know when Yeonjun slipped out of his grasp like that, but Soobin plays with the strap of his backpack as he looks around.

It’s always full and crowded when school’s over. Everyone runs to the exit as it would disappear if no one pass through quicker. Soobin prefers to wait until it’s calmed down a little, and Yeonjun always waits with him.

_So, why isn’t he here?_

He watches as more students run out of the gates. It’s so loud. Deafening in its fleeting moment. It always shimmers, just a little, when he waits it out with Yeonjun. They would wait until the sound drowns out. Until it stops feeling violent and lonely even in its loudness.

 _But Yeonjun isn’t here_.

Soobin bites his lips, nervous even when it’s irrational. They always walk home together. They always wait it out together. _Together_ , right?

He waits for five minutes. He waits for sixty more seconds, until a familiar perfume wafts next to him.

“Hey,” Beomgyu says.

Soobin blinks at him. “Hey,” he replies confusedly.

“Yeonjun’s at the library with Kai,” Beomgyu explains slowly, displeased lines on his forehead. “It’s so annoying. Kai dragged him off the _second_ Yeonjun got out of class. Kai only waved me goodbye and just _ran_.”

Oh. _Okay._

“He didn’t tell me,” Soobin hasn’t felt his phone buzzed for the last five minutes.

“He’s probably distracted or something,” Beomgyu winces, like he’s annoyed. Makes sense, though. “Well. I got abandoned too, so, you know. At least you’re not alone.”

_Alone._

It’s still crowded, thought not as stuffy as before. But still buzzing, still too much noise and heart.

“Are you going home?” Beomgyu asks, eyes shining.

Soobin nods, because he doesn’t have anywhere else to go. “Yeah.”

“Do you want to walk with me?”

They usually wait it out. Yeonjun waits with him until the crowd gradually becomes thinner and breathable, and then they walk.

Yeonjun always waits with him, but Beomgyu isn’t him.

Yeonjun always waits with him, but he isn’t here.

“Yeah,” Soobin nods again. Resolution blooms, and suddenly he’s determined. Determined more than anything else, to see this through. “I’ll walk with you.”

Beomgyu smiles sweetly at him. It’s toothy, bunching his cheeks up, and Soobin stares at the sight for what it is.

Soobin walks through the crowd with Beomgyu next to him. It’s hard to pass through, and it’s the exact reason why he dreads it. It’s too many people he doesn’t know, crowding into his space, unknown skin accidentally brushing his, and Soobin puts his hand in a fist as he makes his way.

Beomgyu doesn’t say anything, but Soobin feels nimble fingers next to his. Barely there, but quite.

Out of the gates, it’s the rocky street again. Sun’s out, bright, and Soobin squints.

They’ve never been alone like this before. It’s always Beomgyu next to him in a hushed library, or Beomgyu at lunch, and there has always been an excuse for Soobin to talk to him.

Right now there’s no excuse. They’re walking together because Beomgyu asked him and Soobin said yes.

“What’s your plan?” Soobin starts the conversation, a brief glance at Beomgyu’s face.

“I’m just going home.”

“No,” Soobin laughs and shakes his head. “I meant after graduating.”

“Oh,” Beomgyu laughs too, and reaches up to brush his bangs. “Uh, I don’t know, actually. Not yet.”

“Well, what do you love to do?”

Beomgyu scrunches his nose, his pink lips pursing. Then a grip around his backpack strap, “That’s a loaded question,” he says. “I love to do a lot of things, is the problem. I can’t figure out what I want to do most.”

“That’s cool.”

“Yeah. I play the guitar. I play the piano. I play the drum too. I sing sometimes,” Beomgyu mumbles, and when Soobin thinks he’s finished, he goes on. “I write a lot of poetry. I’ve written songs before, so maybe...? But yeah. I don’t - I dont’ actually know.”

“Wow,” Soobin breathes, genuinely amazed. No wonder has has such nice hands. “That’s... wow.”

Beomgyu blushes. A deeper shade of pink than his lips. “Yeah.”

“You’re a prodigy,” Soobin says.

Beomgyu shrugs playfully, grinning. “You could say that.”

“Let me see you play,” Soobin says, more determined than ever. “I want to see you play.”

Beomgyu stops walking for a second that Soobin has to stop too. He waits until he takes another step, and Beomgyu’s face turns beet red.

“You want to see me play?” Beomgyu repeats, his eyes wide and surprised.

Soobin nods eagerly. “Yeah, if that’s okay.”

“Of course that’s okay,” Beomgyu says breathless, like he didn’t see it coming. “Dude, I’d play for you ten times in a row.”

Soobin raises a brow at him, but Beomgyu only shrugs.

“Why?” Soobin still asks, because he can’t help it.

Beomgyu chuckles, but it’s confident. Airy. A lot different than how he laughs in the library, but it still melts and pours.

“Do you want me to spell it out for you?” Beomgyu asks back with a challenge in his eyes.

Soobin doesn’t know how to approach the situation. Beomgyu’s the first boy who ever talks to him like this. The first boy with obvious interest in him.

He doesn’t think about it. Because when he did think about it, he was rejected. A sunlight streak through the curtains in a familiar bedroom, and he was brushed aside like he didn’t matter. He doesn’t want to feel that again.

“No,” Soobin shakes his head, but it’s a confirmation. A _yes_. “You don’t have to. Not right now. You can do it whenever you want.”

Beomgyu looks at him, unblinking. Like he’s making sure that he heard him right. As if Soobin’s face would rearrange when he looks away.

But then he smiles. Sweet and earnest, and Soobin would feel guilty if he had any other choice.

He can make this work. He needs to.

“Okay, that’s great,” Beomgyu mutters happily, more to himself than to Soobin it seems like. “That’s really great. Cool. Very cool.”

Soobin doesn’t think about it. Even when the sun’s out and it’s hot. Even when Beomgyu laughs and it’s open.

At the bus stop, Soobin mulls it over first. Stares at Beomgyu’s hands but they’re different than the pair he usually sees.

“Do you need to go home right away?”

Beomgyu looks him right in the eyes, then shakes his head. “No, why?”

“Let’s get something to eat? Do you like ice cream?”

“I love ice cream.”

*

Soobin goes home right before the sky darkens completely.

He greets his parents fleetingly before going to his bedroom. It’s a long day. A weird one too. He doesn’t know how to explain it and he’s avoiding the one person he wants to tell it to. His phone has been buzzing the entire of his way home, but he doesn’t want to look at it.

Soobin spends an hour in the bathroom. He scrubs soap on his skin like he’s been sinning, and lets water on his skin until it burns hot and wild. He drags his fingers on his scalp until his mind stops thrumming and whirling.

It’s weird.

It wasn’t a bad day. Not at all, actually. Beomgyu was... nice. It’s such a simple, almost condescending word to describe someone he’s known for awhile, but it’s just the truth. Beomgyu was nice. He talks when the silence needs it, and he lets Soobin have his moment when it’s due.

Beomgyu _hates_ mint chocolate too, and they laugh about it at the parlour. His laugh is crisp against evening air, and Soobin watches his rough and calloused fingers under the light. It’s the first time Soobin thinks they’re attractive. How the jaggedness of it is a contrast to Beomgyu’s otherwise soft features. Thunder to his rain.

It’s weird, because Soobin thinks maybe he wants to feel those fingers on his skin.

Feels safe, being watched under Beomgyu’s attention, because he knows it to be true. Beomgyu doesn’t hide it. He doesn’t let Soobin dwell in uncertainty, because Beomgyu tells him as it is.

Another stream of hot water, and Soobin thinks back about what Beomgyu said.

“ _I’m a little pissed off_ ,” Beomgyu confides, mouth full of ice cream.

“ _Why_?”

“ _Kai told me he’s thinking of asking Yeonjun out,”_ he goes on, and Soobin’s stomach curls uncomfortably. “ _To the graduation party._ ”

“ _Oh_ ,” Soobin says, and his heart drops.

“ _We agreed on going without dates. You know, I’ll bring him and he’ll bring me, totally platonic,”_ Beomgyu rants, then bites his lip. “ _but yeah, I guess he wants to bring Yeonjun now. So I’ll be the loser without a date.”_

Yeonjun said he’d go with him. It’s what they’ve agreed on since the start. Even before the beginning of the school year. Far before all of this, Yeonjun promised that they would go together to the graduation party.

 _We’re a team_ , he had always said. _I want to end the school year with you._

Things have changed, apparently.

Soobin finishes off with something heavy in his heart. He doesn’t want to think about it. He _doesn’t_ want to think about it, or he will think about a balcony with Yeonjun’s burning hands on the back of his neck, and he’d be back to square one.

_Just pretend it never happened._

So it didn’t.

He buries himself in assignments, and studies more until his eyes feel heavy and the night hangs amply on his chest. He stares at his notebook with the cute bears on the edges, and focuses himself on an open field with bright sun where it doesn’t rain.

He closes it when his muscles strained and his vision blurs. It’s almost ten when his phone buzzes again, and a call from Yeonjun appears on the screen. Soobin hesitates for half a second before answering.

“ _Binnie,_ ” Yeonjun says almost immediately, urgency in his voice. “ _Please open the door.”_

“What?”

“ _I’m outside of your house_.”

“What,” Soobin says, eyebrows furrowing.

“ _I’m outside of your house,_ ” Yeonjun repeats, then whispers. “ _Can you open the door, please?_ ”

Soobin stares at nothing for a moment.

“ _Binnie, you’re not mad, are you?_ ” Yeonjun asks quietly when he doesn’t answer. “ _And even if you are, which I totally understand, please let me make it up for you_.”

He ends the call and skips downstairs. The lights to his parents room are already dark, so he jiggles the door key carefully, and lets it open.

Yeonjun is still in his uniform, backpack slung around his back. He looks relieved when he sees Soobin, and a sigh escapes his mouth.

“Oh my god,” Yeonjun leans on him as he goes inside. “I really thought you were going to let me rot on your front porch when you ended the call.”

Soobin laughs, “I would never,” and closes the door. Quietly, they stride to his room. The air is thick here, because this is the first time someone left unannounced.

But Yeonjun doesn’t go around the bush. He sits himself on the edge of Soobin’s bed, and looks him right in the eyes. Pleading and familiar.

“I’m sorry,” he says.

Soobin sighs and wipes his face slowly. He paces around a little, because it’s been heavy since school ended without Yeonjun, and now he needs the right words to say.

His bed is slightly bigger than Yeonjun’s, but not by a lot. It’s certainly not for two as well, but it’s enough when you have adamant best friends who never let a single bed bother them.

He sits in front of him. Folds his legs underneath him, and looks at him.

Yeonjun lets him. His gaze doesn’t waver either; it’s steady, calm. Guilty, more than anything else.

“Binnie,” Yeonjun says again.

Soobin looks at him still. There’s a washed out tiredness in the lines of his face. Exhaustion clings deep in the way he’s looking at him back.

“Junie.”

Yeonjun reaches out to poke his dimple. “ _Binnie,_ ” he whines. “I’m sorry.”

Soobin doesn’t give in. He simply raises an eyebrow, like he’s amused.

“Fuck off,” Yeonjun laughs, the ring to it aching. “Please, I’m trying to say sorry.”

Soobin cracks a smile. A small one, he’ll give him that. “I know,” he relents.

“I’m _sorry_ , Binnie. I really am,” Yeonjun says again. “I didn’t mean to leave you like that. Kai dragged me out of class so suddenly that I didn’t have a chance to react. I couldn’t let you know where I am because they consficate our phones in the library, you know that.”

Soobin nods. He knows there was nothing violent about it, but it was abruptly jarring. He didn’t have a chance to react too. “It’s okay,” Soobin soothes. “I was just confused.”

“Kai took me to the mall after that,” Yeonjun says, a glow in his eyes Soobin’s never seen before. “We ate dinner, went to a bookstore, and...”

“And?”

“He held my hand on the way home. Told me to go home safe. And here I am,” Yeonjun finishes with a smile. “I’m home and safe.”

“This is my house.”

Yeonjun rolls his eyes. “You know what I mean.”

Soobin nods again. It’s not like he was ever really mad. “Yeah, okay.”

It doesn’t hurt, because Yeonjun looks genuinely happy. He looks tired, but he’s beaming. A waves of joy hitting him right in his chest.

As long as he’s happy, then. Soobin doesn’t mind. He shouldn’t mind. This is what he wants; above all else. To see Yeonjun like this again. To see that rare shine gleams under the light, even when it’s not for him.

“You really like him,” Soobin says. It was never a question.

Yeonjun looks at him. It’s not hesitation, but he seems to think about it first. Brown eyes hovering on his face, and then they’re on his.

“Yeah,” Yeonjun nods, and Soobin mirrors it. _Okay_.

Soobin sleeps with a bedside lamp on, so it’s never pitch black where he is. Not like Yeonjun’s room. It’s almost like an instinct when Yeonjun turns the light off and brings the lamp on, and then like gravity, he presses his body next to Soobin’s until he’s shoved to the wall.

Yeonjun opens his palm up, and waits. Soobin holds it quietly.

Safe, where their fingers meet. Safe, when their knuckles are wrapped around each other.

They used to be just hands. Yeonjun’s. The smooth lines where the bumpy bones meet his palms. The delicate bareness to his skin, how it’s always golden on light, and divine against Soobin’s eyes.

“I missed you, though,” Yeonjun admits.

Soobin shakes his head, and gulps it down. “You didn’t,” he whispers.

“Of course I did,” Yeonjun says. “Who else am I going to miss?”

Soobin stares at them. It used to be little hands in each other’s hold, but Soobin’s hands have grown bigger, and Yeonjun’s fingers are longer than they have ever been.

Such a heavy evidence to see; how much they’ve grown up. Yeonjun’s thumb on his, and it still feels like elementary school when school wasn’t heavy, and his feelings weren’t confusing.

Kai wants to take Yeonjun as a date to the graduation party. Soobin knows Yeonjun would reject Kai when it comes, because Yeonjun gave Soobin a promise first, and he never breaks his word. Soobin doesn’t want him to choose. It would be a lot worse if Yeonjun still went with him out of pity.

Yeonjun has always been beautiful, but it’s blinding when he’s happy. The soft wrinkles on the edge of his eyes. The roof of his mouth when he laughs, and there’s nothing heavier than the glee that he lets free. Soobin wants to see that again. Again, always. Same thing.

Soobin is Yeonjun’s best friend. That’s what he is. That’s what he’s always been.

“Hey,” Soobin starts, but doesn’t actually know how to say it. It should be easy. He’s making this easier for Yeonjun anyway.

“Yeah?”

“I’m thinking of asking Beomgyu to the graduation party,” he lies.

It’s better this way for the both of them. Yeonjun gets to go with Kai, and Soobin would have a chance to get over him. A win-win situation, really.

A beat of silence, and Yeonjun nudges his nails on Soobin’s palm. A silent wonder, but then he voices it out: “Are you?”

“Yeah,” he lies again, sickly smooth on his tongue. “Is that okay?”

Yeonjun squeezes his hand. “Of course,” he says softly. “Is that what you want?”

Another drag of sharp nails on his, and it’s always easier to pretend it doesn’t hurt. He nods.

“Look at you,” Yeonjun coos. “All grown up.”

Soobin doesn’t let the fire ignite. He thinks about pink lips and doe eyes, and braces himself. “I went out with him,” he confesses slowly and looks at the ceiling instead. Doesn’t want to see Yeonjun’s reaction. Can’t handle seeing the excitement in Yeonjun’s eyes to hear about Soobin with another boy. “After school. At that parlour you really like.”

“ _What_. You went out on a _date_?”

“It was hardly a date. Just ice cream.”

“Still,” Yeonjun gasps. “Oh my god, you really are grown up.”

“Don’t act like you didn’t go on a _date_ too, Mr. he-held-my-hand-on-the-way-home.”

“Oh, so you admit you and Beomgyu went on a date?”

“Please shut up,” Soobin burrows his head deeper into the pillow and tugs Yeonjun with him. They’re side by side, skin on skin, a half-hearted confession and barely there regret.

“ _Never_ ,” Yeonjun laughs, and then there’s hair on Soobin’s cheek. Warm breath on his face. “Soobinnie is in love, how could I _ever_ shut up?”

Soobin doesn’t deny it. There’s nothing to deny.

“Wait, this means I’m going dateless to graduation,” Yeonjun mutters quietly, like an afterthought. He shifts until they’re now facing each other, barefeet tangling with his, wrists pressing. Knuckles on knuckles again.

“You’re not going dateless.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re going with Kai,” Soobin says, his voice steady. “Either he asks you, or you ask him first.”

“I don’t even know if he wants to go with me.”

 _“_ Yeonjun,” a name, tender. It’s immovable as it becomes permanent in the air, and Soobin lets go of it because it was never his. “Who wouldn’t want you?”

Yeonjun laughs it off like it’s a joke. “Not everyone though.”

Quietly, he brushes a stranded hair on Yeonjun’s forehead and tucks it safely to the back of his ear. “I promise Kai would be happy to go with you.”

Yeonjun stares at him. His eyes don’t look brown in the lamp’s light. They look saccharine, and yellow, and everything else that doesn’t make sense.

“I guess you’re right,” he says then. Light but strangely distant.

“Of course I am. I’m always right.”

Yeonjun smiles at him. It’s bittersweet. That smile, the sweetness to it comforting and homey. But it’s sour as he remembers how they’ve met his, the ephemeralness of it blunt.

Soobin thinks this is how he deals with it:

To get over Choi Yeonjun, he needs to forget about his smile.

The first ever step. It should be the first easy step.

Yeonjun smiles at him, but Soobin turns a blind eye. It’s just a smile. It’s just a smile, move along, carry on. Forget about a moonlit balcony, and nothing would hurt him anymore.

Soobin stares at it; woundedly, heart-wrenchingly. Earth shattering, as his eyes catches the chapness of Yeonjun’s bottom lip, and he can’t figure out if that particular crack was always there. If that unimportant split of his lip was there when he kissed him, and if Soobin had ever tasted it once.

Soobin would never have it brushed against his mouth again, and once it healed, Soobin would lost that one in a lifetime chance of feeling that particular bumpness of his lips, that precise feeling of how it would feel on Soobin’s skin in a moment in time when they’re both still eighteen.

He grazes his hand softly on the sleeve of Yeonjun’s uniform. “This must be uncomfortable,” he says, voice laced in concern. “Do you want to change?”

“All your clothes are too big on me,” Yeonjun’s laugh echoes. “Besides, I’m too sleepy to get up.”

“You had _one_ date and suddenly you’re too tired to do anything else.”

“No,” he shakes his head. “It’s - it’s just. It’s you.”

Soobin blinks at him. “Me?”

“Yeah, you,” Yeonjun’s forehead creases, and then he pouts. “I don’t know. It’s my thing, a weird thing. You just - you make me feel - ” but he stops. Like he can’t find the words.

Soobin urges him to go on, because he isn’t the best at words either, but Yeonjun always waits patiently until he’d get his point across. “It’s okay,” he reassures. “Say it in your own words.”

“Okay,” Yeonjun takes his time to look at Soobin. “It’s, like, the world shuts down.”

“What do you mean?”

“Your voice soothes me,” he explains gently, like it’s a secret only for Soobin to know. “It makes me feel - ” he stops again, stuck in the same place, but then something like a newfound realization comes. A full stop to it now. _“It makes me feel.”_

Soobin waits for more, but that’s the end of it. “Okay,” he says, heart clenching in his chest.

Silence sets in as Yeonjun doesn’t say anything else. He only holds his hand tighter. Until it becomes a lot less scary, a lot less ungraspable, and Soobin seeks shelter in the way words float between them, but they understand each other seamlessly anyway.

He understands. More than anything else. He understands the weight of it all. It goes without saying. The bond that they have, the bone-deep understanding and serenity that they’ve kept.

“Binnie,” Yeonjun says after. “Talk to me.”

Soobin just does that. He tells him about America, about the little stories Mom used to tell him when he was too young to remember but remembers regardless. He tells him about a dream, miles away from home, to see the world far from what he already knows. It’s a future that he wants and Yeonjun’s apart of everything. He always is.

He talks until his voice gets a little rough, and Yeonjun’s eyes are heavy. He’s barely holding onto Soobin’s hand anymore.

“You’re still wearing your uniform,” Soobin whispers quietly.

Yeonjun chuckles and thwacks his wrist. “I told you it’s fine,” he opens his left eye a little. “Thanks, Binnie.”

Soobin nods numbly. “Of course,” he says, because he’d talk an hour more if Yeonjun wanted him to. “Whatever you want.”

Yeonjun smiles at him again. It’s faint and delicate, like it wasn’t supposed to be there in the first place. Aching in the hushed way it is, because there’s no one else to see it except Soobin. Painful, because it feels like it’s meant for him, the way it’s shown. But it’s not.

“Don’t drool in your sleep,” Soobin says, breathless.

“No promises,” Yeonjun’s smile stays. It stays, but Soobin doesn’t look away. Instead; he’s frozen, tight-lipped, and he tastes beer in the ridge of his teeth.

*

It doesn’t matter that Soobin bores holes to the side of Yeonjun’s face as he leaves to eat lunch with Kai again, because Beomgyu is here with him. Elbow on elbow again, bare skin that feels open and looming.

Beomgyu nudges his lunchbox to him, nodding as he chews the food in his mouth, “Do you want some?” he offers. “I made it myself.”

“You can cook?”

“I try.”

“Okay,” Soobin says, then spoons Beomgyu’s meal. “Mm, it’s good.”

“Right?”

So they talk. They do a lot of talking. Beomgyu talks a lot, and Soobin listens to him. He asks him questions too, like what’s your childhood dream, what’s your favorite color, what do you do on your free time. Soobin answers all of those and asks Beomgyu back, because he wants to know.

The cafetaria is always loud at lunch, and it’s always a scary place to be in the middle of. Yeonjun has been the lifeline in these kind of situations, because he’s always _louder_ than the noises, and Soobin has a focal point, a warmth to hold on to, a sound to seek. No matter what crowd Soobin’s in, he finds Yeonjun, and it becomes less frightening.

Right now, it’s Beomgyu’s eyes. His doe, round eyes. Soobin stares at them as Beomgyu tells him about white being his favorite color because his mother painted their whole house white, and also pink because it’s soft and calming. Soobin stares at the speck of gold in his left eye shedded from sunlight, and Beomgyu says he wanted to be a car designer because it’s cool.

Then, slowly, he inches even closer and Soobin feels his laughter in his chest. The gold is more metallic up close; indefinable and rare. Soobin doesn’t want to look, but he does. He does, because Yeonjun’s somewhere in front of him, but it hurts to look at him.

“Do you want to come over?” Beomgyu asks between his bite, and Soobin looks at him dumbfoundedly.

“Come over?”

“Yeah,” Beomgyu nods, playing with his spoon absentmindedly. The tips of his ears are amber, hidden. “If you want. I can play the guitar for you.”

Soobin stares at Yeonjun. He’s wearing the same uniform he stayed in a few nights ago, white, innocent, stark. He’s wearing the same smile too, all dew and vivid, and Soobin can’t help but remember.

He forces himself to look away, and finds Beomgyu’s smile instead. It’s faint and unassuming, a lot less real. Beomgyu’s doesn’t look threatening. It doesn’t look like heartbreak. Beomgyu’s smile looks like wet gravel, safe, warm.

“Okay,” Soobin nods, and gulps it down. “I’ll come over.”

Beomgyu lights up, like he always does. “Great,” he says, and smiles more, but Soobin ignores it.

School ends before he knows it, and Yeonjun looks at him expectantly as the class fills out. He holds on to his arm, fingers on skin, white uniforms against one another.

“I have a secret,” Yeonjun whispers conspiratorially, then leans in. Soobin eyes him down. “Kai asked me to be his date,” he goes on, and that dreaded smile comes.

“Did you say yes?”

“Hell yeah,” Yeonjun skips on his feet excitedly, tugging him until they’re collided and his laugh becomes too much. It’s another reminder, another heat, and Soobin can’t do anything but take them all.

It’s puffy cheeks, sunlit room, an easy rejection out of his mouth. It’s moonlit balcony, tender fingers, a heavy sigh against the night. It’s everything, but it’s nothing, because Yeonjun wants him to pretend it never happened.

_So it didn’t._

“Wish me luck then,” Soobin breathes, and laughs so the silence isn’t hollow. He laughs, because Yeonjun’s happy, and Soobin’s always been his best friend. “You can go with Kai. I’m coming over to Beomgyu’s.”

“Oh?” Yeonjun gasps in susprise, dramatic as he presses close to him, round and wide eyes on him. “You’re finally going to ask him?”

Soobin nods through gritted teeth. “I hope he says yes,” he mumbles. He reminds himself that it’s just high school. It’s high school; Soobin will get over it, Beomgyu will get over it, no one will get hurt. They’ll move on from it, and Soobin would just be the boy Beomgyu went to the graduation party with. He will just be a boy. It will just be a party.

“He _will_ say yes,” Yeonjun claims happily, clapping his hands as they walk down the stairs. “He’s crazy about you, I hope you know that.”

Soobin knows. Soobin knows, and maybe that’s why he’s reluctant. But Yeonjun’s warmth is on his again, like a bus stop and a promise, and he wills himself to go through it.

“Yeah,” Soobin nods again, like clockwork.

Yeonjun tells him that Kai wants to hang out again. He continues on, about Kai and his whispered sweet nothings, about Kai and his cute handwriting. Soobin watches his steps, and there are Beomgyu and Kai on the bottom of the stairs, waiting for them.

They break apart then. Yeonjun lets go of his arm and Kai drags Yeonjun away, loud laughs in the hallways. Soobin looks at Beomgyu properly, as if it was his first time.

“Hey,” Soobin greets, and for once he doesn’t want to force it. He shouldn’t have to.

“Hey,” Beomgyu smiles. Soobin looks at it now, the curved pink lips. “Ready to go?”

The sky is dark. It’s darker than it’s ever been. Black clouds, windy, and he involuntarily scoots closer to Beomgyu. They walk for a few minutes until a thunder breaks somewhere far, and Soobin squints.

“I think it’s going to rain,” Beomgyu holds out his palms. Upward, and drops of water come trickling down on his skin. “Welp, now it’s drizzling.”

Soobin feels cold water on his arms. Then through his uniform, past his hair to his scalp. “Ugh,” he groans. “Let’s hurry then, or we’re going to get soaked.”

But Beomgyu only laughs. He laughs and stands still. He laughs, closes his eyes, and cranes his neck up to the sky. Slowly, rain starts to drop on his face. One dot lands on his eyebrow. Then on the tip of his nose. Two drops at the same time on his cheek. Soobin watches as raindrops splash quietly on the concave of Beomgyu’s eyelids, sticking to his eyelashes, then melts completely on his skin.

“It finally rains!” Beomgyu yells excitedly through the rumble of the sky, through the crowd running for safety, but it still rings louder than everything else. Soobin doesn’t hear the rest; just Beomgyu’s smooth honey voice, and the rain on his cupid bow, calling out to him.

Soobin looks up. Rain flows down his face eagerly, cold water on his neck, under his uniform, and he feels the laughter first before he heard it; a shake of his chest as it goes out of his mouth freely. He laughs as more rain soaks him completely, and the socks inside of his shoes are shivering too.

Beomgyu laughs with him, and suddenly they’re holding hands, Beomgyu’s thumb on the inside of his wrist, and Soobin’s fingertips on the wetness of his jutting bones. They run, smacking wet sounds of their shoes brushing with pebbles, and Soobin laughs again as they reach the bus stop.

“Oh god,” Soobin groans, but he’s smiling. He drags his hand on his drenched clothes, feeling cold all over. “That was - ”

“Fun, right?” Beomgyu finishes it for him, raising his eyebrows.

Soobin dazedly nods. “Yeah,” he agrees, and agrees, and feels the water on his skin again.

People look at them weirdly when they step inside the bus, but Beomgyu only shrugs, so Soobin doesn’t mind it. They share a vacant seat all the way back, and Beomgyu stares outside the window as the bus moves. Soobin offers him the other pair of his earphone, and Beomgyu takes it quietly with a smile. They listen to music throughout the way home, and Soobin hears Beomgyu hum at the songs.

They drop off on the next bus stop, and Beomgyu finds his hand easily and twines their fingers together again. Soobin doesn’t say anything; just lets him do what he wants, and tails him closely behind as they walk to Beomgyu’s house.

It has stopped raining but a light drizzle, and Beomgyu brushes his wet hair up. He looks different like this, when there’s little to no sun, and it’s quiet in the streets. It’s different, because Beomgyu’s hand is wet and slippery, but it’s the only hand that holds his.

“I’m home,” Beomgyu announces as he opens the front door. There’s a woman’s voice calling back which Soobin assumes is his mom.

Mrs. Choi is in the kitchen, hunching on something on the stove. She smiles when she sees Beomgyu, then her eyes grow wider as she catches sight of their held hands. Soobin blushes a little at that, but Beomgyu doesn’t let go.

“Mom, hello, I’m home,” Beomgyu repeats his greeting, and tugs him closer.

“Oh,” she raises a brow at her son, which Beomgyu only answers with a shrug. “Who’s this?”

“It’s Soobin,” Beomgyu says eventually, and Soobin bows politely.

“Nice to meet you, Mrs. Choi,” he says, a smile on his lips. “I’m Beomgyu’s friend.”

“Did you get stuck in the rain?” she asks worriedly, and Soobin winces guiltily as they drip rain on the floor.

Beomgyu nods, even though it was his idea to stay under the rain and gets drowned in it. “Yeah,” he purses his lips. “Sorry, I’ll clean it up later. Can we go dry off now?”

“As long as you promise you’ll clean it up,” She says, pointing her spatula at him.

“Yes, yes, _yes_ , I promise, Mom,” Beomgyu disentangles himself from Soobin to kiss her on the cheek. “Bye!”

Beomgyu was right. His house is white; big, clean, and pretty. It looks well organized too. Soobin quietly strides upstairs, following Beomgyu’s light footsteps.

He takes him to the bathroom. The walls are white too. Beomgyu silently takes Soobin’s backpack and hangs it on the hanger, as if it would help drying it off.

“We’re leaving trails _everywhere,_ ” Beomgyu laughs, and Soobin smiles at it. It’s raspy, low, a little like he’s just lost his voice. Maybe that’s why Soobin likes it, the attractiveness of it seemingly effortless.

“I hope your mom won’t ban me from coming over again,” Soobin says, chuckling, and Beomgyu gives him a dry towel. They lock gaze then; something heavy that feels like a promise.

“She won’t,” Beomgyu assures softly. A quiet tingle in his eyes.

Soobin quickly dries off his hair and his skin, the wetness in his neck and in his collarbones, and tries his best to pat the water out of his uniform and pants. It’s a lot better, but his clothes are a lost cause. They’re not drenched anymore, but still uncomfortably damp. It’s fine, Soobin can deal with it.

“Sorry,” Beomgyu winces when Soobin puts the towel back to the rack. “You got wet because of me.”

Soobin laughs it off. He doesn’t really mind. “I like it,” he says. “ _Really_. That was... unpredictable, but fun.”

“I can lend you my hoodie,” Beomgyu offers, thinking it over. “They’re all over-sized, I’m sure one of them will fit you.”

Soobin nods. “Yeah, sure.”

Beomgyu spends more time drying off, a hard drag of the towel on his scalp. When he’s finished, he takes Soobin to his room, right at the opposite end of the bathroom.

“Wait here, I’m going to change first,” Beomgyu takes a stack of clothes from his dresser and holds them tightly on his chest. He looks over at Soobin for a moment before taking a black hoodie hanging behind his door and throws it over to Soobin. “Try it out.”

Beomgyu leaves Soobin to the stillness of his room. He drags his eyes quietly to his surrounding, stunned when he finds out how different it is from the room he usually knows.

His room is _loud_. Yeah, that’s how he would describe it. It’s decorated with posters (of musicians, movies, also the cartoon bear from Soobin’s notebook), and _spacious_. There’s a double bed in the middle of the room. White sheets, white pillowcase, soft pink covers. His guitar is on the corner of his room, perched on a stand.

Soobin strips out of his uniform and wears the hoodie over his head. It’s warm, and miracously fits perfectly around his frame. He pulls the hood on top of his head, letting it take over all of him.

When Beomgyu comes back, he’s dressed in a simple shirt and checkered pajama pants. Soobin has never seen him like this before, so casual and _him._ It’s always Beomgyu, his friend from school; Beomgyu with his uniform, Beomgyu with his whisper voice. This is Beomgyu outside _all_ of that, breaking through his caged mold.

“Hi again,” Beomgyu giggles.

Soobin sits himself on the edge of the bed. His hands are warm inside of the hoodie’s pocket. “Hi, too,” he says.

Beomgyu takes a full and long look at him. It’s fond, overwhelmingly so. Soobin doesn’t know what he sees in him.

“Hi,” Beomgyu says again, quietly, and inches closer to him. He takes the spot next to him, cross-legged, brown hair flopping on his forehead.

Doe eyes, looking at him back. Soobin gulps it down, and whispers, “Are you still cold?”

Beomgyu shakes his head slowly, like he’s contemplating it. “I don’t know,” he mumbles, shrugging nonchalantly. “Will you warm me up?”

There’s something in the air. Similar to a moonlit balcony that shines close, but right now it’s not heady or aflame. Beomgyu moves until their knees are touching, and Soobin lets himself feel it.

 _Just pretend it never happened_.

Soobin doesn’t think about it. He doesn’t think about it when Beomgyu leans in a little to his space, and there’s a cold hand splayed on his thigh.

“Yeah,” he breathes.

Beomgyu knocks their knees together. It surprises him so much that his hood falls over, and there’s nowhere to hide anymore.

Pink lips. Pink lips, now red on his cheeks too. Beomgyu stares at him quietly. A question in his gaze, an awaited urge that invites and lures.

It’s not Soobin who makes the first move. Beomgyu leans into him, fumbling, a little shy, and Soobin catches him closing his eyes before the distance finally disappears.

The kiss is chaste. Brief and innocent. His lips on his for a second before he finally pulls away. Soobin doesn’t kiss him back.

“Sorry,” Beomgyu’s breath is hot on him. Too close, burns more. “I haven’t kisssed anyone before.”

Soobin stares at him, and his heart breaks a little inside. “It’s okay,” he says softly. “It wasn’t bad.”

“Have you?”

“Mm?”

“Have you kissed anyone?”

He doesn’t have to pretend. Right here, he doesn’t have to lie about his first kiss. His promise isn’t bound here, inside Beomgyu’s four walls, in the new warmth of Beomgyu’s hoodie.

Soobin nods, heavy, trembling with the weight of it. It feels good to recognize that it happened. This is the first time the world knows. A single soul except him that acknowledges its existence.

“Am I your second kiss?” Beomgyu whispers, hands on Soobin’s neck. Calloused fingers dragging across bare skin.

“Yeah,” Soobin reaches to hold Beomgyu’s cheeks. He feels oddly brave, here, against Beomgyu’s unwavering hands and steady everything. “Can I be your second too?”

His pink lips. Lips, pink, parted for him. Soobin doesn’t think about it as he leans in again, this time properly, catching his mouth with his as he breathes.

Soobin can like him. He can like him, as Beomgyu presses close to him until he shivers. He can like him, as Beomgyu sighs into him like he’s alight. He can like him, because Beomgyu kisses him wholeheartedly and doesn’t smell strongly like beer.

They break apart, and Beomgyu smiles at him, once more and always. Soobin doesn’t know what to do with it.

“Mm,” Beomgyu hums. It’s soft, heartbreakingly open. “Soobin, I really like you.”

He doesn’t say anything. He tries to breathe, his hands on Beomgyu’s sleeve. He skims the skin of his arm, slowly, trying to find the courage to say it, because he doesn’t know how else to ease it.

“Be my date to the graduation party?” That’s how Soobin answers Beomgyu’s confession, and he hopes that it’s enough. He hopes that it’s enough, because he can’t say it back, no matter how much he wants to.

Beomgyu kisses him again; another answer, and Soobin closes his eyes the second time. It’s cold, the rain lingers on his cheeks, and on his palms, and on the way Beomgyu shakes against his body. Soobin holds him still, even when his eyes are burning.

“Yes, I’ll be your date,” Beomgyu whispers then, and Soobin sighs into his mouth.

Beomgyu doesn’t feel like rejection. He feels like open arms, and tender skin, soft voice that melts and soothes. Beomgyu feels like first love, the one that you keep in your heart long after it’s gone. He feels like a long trip to memory lane when you’re fourty, and he’s there, the feeling of being eighteen still alive and bright in your mind.

His hands are rough, bumpy, the tip of his fingers rugged on Soobin’s neck, but he takes it all because it’s enough. It should be enough, as Beomgyu knocks their noses together, and his laugh breaks free. Soobin holds him, because he can, his cold palms brushing softly on Beomgyu’s cold cheeks, and it doesn’t matter that he isn’t the boy Soobin wants.

Soobin wants him now. In Beomgyu’s room after the rain, soft platter of tiny drops on the window, and Beomgyu is closer than he’s ever been. Soobin wants him now, when he’s eighteen, and first love isn’t supposed to last.

_You’re supposed to get over it._

At the end of the day, Beomgyu doesn’t play the guitar. They spend the rest of it in bed, Beomgyu twining their fingers together, and they talk like they’ve known each other forever. Soobin tells him about his favorite color again, because in this moment he doesn’t want to say anything else.

Beomgyu doesn’t play the guitar. Soobin regretfully wishes he did that instead.

*

Yeonjun wants to be an astronaut, so Soobin gives in. He gives in, because the universe is vast and indescribable, and that’s how he feels about him too.

They’re on Yeonjun’s too small bed again, cramming against the wall, the headboard, and the edge, but they make it work because that’s what they do. There’s a pretentious English book on Yeonjun’s left knee, and Soobin has his cheek squished on his right. Yeonjun’s sweatpants is soft, a familiar smell from a familiar detergent.

“Ugh,” Yeonjun groans, flipping the page aggressively that Soobin’s afraid it’ll tore. “Can we stop _reading this_.”

Soobin smiles against his knee. A hand gripping on his ankle. “No one’s forcing you to read it, though. We were just reading for fun.”

“Yeah, but I want to feel cool,” Yeonjun huffs. “I don’t want to be the loser who is stuck _here_ while you get to be in America with your new cool American friends.”

Soobin peers up at him, then grins. “Yeah, who are you again?”

“Oh, _really,_ ” Yeonjun glares at him, a challenging raise of his eyebrow. “You find new friends _once_ , who are still _hypothetical,_ may I add, and start abandoning _me,_ your saviour, your best friend in the entire world - ”

“Please shut up,” Soobin pinches the inside of his thigh, but Yeonjun doesn’t budge. He looks more determined instead.

“ _Me,_ Choi Yeonjun, the one who was there when you still peed your pants, _me,_ who took the blame when your mom asked you who ate sand at the beach that one time!”

“Oh my god, shut _up_ \- ”

“Me, Choi Yeonjun, your best best friend, the apple to your eye, the cherry to your pie, the _love of your life_ \- ”

Soobin smooths his palm against his leg, abruptly like he’s been burned, but Yeonjun doesn’t notice and goes on, “Don’t you dare forget about me when you find new friends or I will rip all of your hair with my bare hands.”

The threat is nothing. Empty, because Soobin never plans too. “What are you talking about, Junie,” Soobin says, softer than intended. He can’t help it.

“I just don’t want to be the loser that you left behind.”

Soobin shakes his head against the sharp jut of his bone. “You won’t be,” he says, and it’s easy to believe when Soobin would take him anywhere. “If I go, you go.”

Yeonjun plays with his hair, fingers between strands, a calming press on his scalp. “If you go, I go,” he repeats it back with the same sentiment, and Soobin thinks of a bus stop six years ago.

“I have my telescope to look over you,” Soobin reminds him, and warms when Yeonjun smiles brighter than the sun. It’s only for him. That smile is only for him; there’s only so much space in his room. So much soul. So much secrets to unravel when they know each other to the bare of it all.

“I have my earth too.”

Soobin nods, then takes the book still balanced on Yeonjun’s knee. He skims the cover slowly with his finger, and wonders if it lies there, their future. If this book decides how their skies will look like one day.

All dreams are attainable. It’s still the same for Soobin, eighteen years into his life. An open field, Yeonjun’s smile on his, warm palms against one another. An open field where it doesn’t rain, and the sun doesn’t mock him.

“I have a name prepared,” Yeonjun says playfully and chuckles when Soobin looks back at him. “For when we’re there.”

“Yeah, what is it?”

“Daniel,” he tells him.

“Mm,” Soobin peers up at him again, his heart splitting in two at Yeonjun’s commitment to all of this, even when nothing’s fixed. “I like it. Suits you.”

“How about you?”

Soobin shakes his head, his temple pressing on Yeonjun’s thigh. “Nah, I don’t have one right now,” he mumbles. “I’ll think about it later.”

Yeonjun takes the book from his hand and starts flipping it open again. There’s an annoyed gruff after that, but Soobin only laughs fondly.

“We’ve been reading for the last hour,” Soobin holds the open book with his hand. “Let’s take a break.”

The book is set aside for now, and there’s no reason for Soobin to still rest on Yeonjun’s knee, but he doesn’t move. It’s uncomfortable, but Yeonjun’s hands are between his hair still, soft, present, grounding, so Soobin doesn’t let go. He doesn’t need to. He doesn’t want to.

“I can’t believe we’re graduating soon,” Yeonjun says fleetingly, but Soobin thinks about it.

Soobin’s eighteen, Yeonjun’s eighteen, yet they’re the same twelve years old boys sticking close on the way home. It’s bright red around Yeonjun’s eyes, tear-stained uniform, a bound promise all over again.

“I just can’t believe I’m still friends with you,” Soobin says jokingly.

“Yah, what’s that supposed to mean!”

Soobin laughs, curling in on himself as Yeonjun attacks him with the book. “I’m _kidding._ Please calm down! You’re going to give me a bruise.”

“That you _deserve_.”

“Why are _you_ still friends with me?”

Yeonjun’s attack halts midair, fingers stiffening against hard cover. He looks confused, eyebrows furrowing with a pout on his lips. “What do you mean?”

Soobin moves so he can sit properly. His back on the wall, their feet tangling on the small bed. “I don’t know,” he shrugs, appearing nonchalant even when he’s not. “You’re just so... you. And I’m... well, me.”

His pout grows deeper, confusion still etched deep. “That doesn’t make any sense.”

“You’re...” Soobin stares at him, despite knowing Yeonjun’s face like the back of his hand. The scar below his eyebrow, pretty lines of his lips, how his cheeks move when he smiles. “You’re,” _bright. beautiful. radiant. Everything I’m not._ “you.” He gestures with his hands, something explosive and loud. “And I’m...” _not Kai_. _Someone who shines like you, too_. “me.” A shrug, because that’s now he feels about himself. Barely there, decent enough, but never one of a kind.

Yeonjun slaps the book on his arm again, but it’s softer. “Binnie,” he says, his gaze safe. “How could you say that about yourself.”

“I didn’t really say anything.”

Yeonjun tilts his head. “You actually did. You said _a lot_.”

Soobin stares at his hands. He didn’t mean to say that at all. But he did anyway, and now Yeonjun’s looking at him heavy. Yeonjun quietly shifts until they’re side by side against the wall, then he opens his palm up, and waits.

They wait for things together. Filling in spaces that were never meant for them.

But the gaps between his fingers are for Yeonjun. They’re there for Yeonjun to fill. They’re there for Yeonjun’s hand to meet, and then it’s skin on skin, knuckles on knuckles, an evidence of a story made eighteen years ago.

“Yeah, I’m me,” Yeonjun begins slowly, his voice a home. “You’re also you.”

“You’re kind of agreeing with everything I just said.”

“Stop cutting me off, you jackass.”

Soobin chuckles, ducks his head, and looks at Yeonjun’s sharp nails. “Sorry,” he whispers. “Go on.”

“You’re you,” Yeonjun says again, tender. Almost unbearable in the way he utters it, like it’s a confession. “But that’s why I love you.”

Soobin’s heart breaks inside. It breaks, silently, as their hands tangle in its temporary warmth.

“You’re you, but that’s why you’re my best friend in the entire world,” Yeonjun peeks at him, smiling bright as his eyes grow small. “Binnie, you’re so stupid,” he says fondly.

“That says more about you than me,” Soobin’s voice breaks too.

“That’s fine,” Yeonjun replies easily. “You will always be my best friend.”

Soobin squeezes his hand. An open field, somewhere in front him. He’ll reach it. They’ll reach it together, because that’s what they do.

“Forever,” Soobin says, because that’s what they’ve always been.

“Best friend forever, right?” Yeonjun nudges him quietly.

Soobin nods, even as it leaves a bitter aftertaste in his mouth. “Yeah.”

One day, Yeonjun’s smile won’t hurt. It won’t hurt when their silence feels more tangible than most and their skin glides uncomfortably than it usually does.

Forever is a long time. Forever is a long time to be someone’s best friend when you’re in love with them.

“Let’s read this again,” Yeonjun says decidedly, and lets go of his hand. “I’ll be as cool as your new friends.”

“They’re not even real.”

“ _Yet,_ ” Yeonjun grits his teeth, and shoves the book to Soobin’s chest. “Come on, it’s your turn to read to me.”

“Okay,” Soobin opens the book. He wonders if this will be the matter of falling and failing. If the secrets of growing up is stuck somewhere between these hollow lines. Maybe if he tried hard enough, Soobin could see America in the flying letters on these dry pages.

His dream is an open field, but Yeonjun’s smiling again, and it feels closer than it’s ever been.

*

Soobin spends the day before the graduation party in Yeonjun’s room. It’s nice. The sun’s out, everything’s quiet, and the light on Yeonjun’s face doesn’t burn.

“Do you remember the first day of school?”

Soobin stares at Yeonjun’s hands, how they reach to the ceiling, slender fingers coated by the afternoon glow. It’s been the same since; fatal in the way they move. Soobin’s always been helpless.

“Yeah,” Soobin nods, and feels the pillow below his head. Yeonjun’s breathing is slow and patient. It’s hard to swallow that they’re graduating tomorrow. In his head, everything’s the same and nothing’s changed. Somewhere in his heart, he never grew up. Still the same boy in a bus stop who wiped the tears of another boy. “Can’t believe it’s over now.”

“We used to complain all the time,” Yeonjun chuckles, then one of his hand goes down. Soobin doesn’t let go of the still hovering hand in the air; eyes transfixed and a fool. “Remember? We dreamed of _this_. Graduating, that’s what we’ve been waiting for.”

“And it’s here.”

“It’s finally here,” Yeonjun sighs high. Drops his other hand, and now they’re back on the bed. Soobin doesn’t stare at anything anymore. “It’s _here_. Oh my god, Soobin. _We’re adults._ ”

“No we’re not,” Soobin lets himself laugh. Thinks about yesterday, and the day before, and then a year, and years ago. He remembers ticking clock, and heavy days, but he forgets how it feels when it used to be harder than this. Nothing can’t be harder than this. “And, you, are absolutely _not_.”

“ _Rude_. Is that how you talk to your best friend?”

Soobin closes his eyes and drinks everything in. He’s on Yeonjun’s too small bed, and their forearms are touching, in the familiar way that they do. Shirts bunching up slightly, until it’s nothing but skin.

It’s been eighteen years of knowing Yeonjun. Eighteen years in this neighborhood. Eighteen years with the same ceiling, the same streak of sunlight from the same window.

“I wish, months from now, we’re not here anymore,” Yeonjun whispers quietly. “I hope we’re living your dream then.”

“Your dream too.”

“Listen,” Yeonjun shakes his head, the pilllow shifting. “I want to study abroad, _I do_ , I want it bad, but I just want to be where you are.”

Soobin thinks it’s a nice world to live in. If they always align; if their stars collide without breaking apart. “I want that too,” he says, and his ribs tighten. “But life is funny sometimes.”

“What do you mean?”

“We won’t always want the same things,” Soobin says, meeting his eyes.

It’s true, but it’s harsh when he says it like this, in the same place Yeonjun broke his heart. The same air when Yeonjun told him to forget.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” Yeonjun mutters, then turns to him. His hand finds his again. Like a thousand times before; like a lifetime ago when Soobin wasn’t in love with him. “But I still want to be where you are.”

“Okay,” Soobin promises, tangling their fingers. It’s easy to believe when he’s eighteen and he hasn’t felt anything else.

Yeonjun smiles, sickly sweet. The split on his bottom lip isn’t there anymore.

*

Yeonjun’s suit matches Soobin’s. The colors compliment each other.

What an irony, he thinks. He stares at the veins on Yeonjun’s neck, as he leans in on the mirror close. Yeonjun smells good, like baby powder. It’s that sugary sense; stuck on Soobin’s tongue.

He doesn’t think about it. Even as Yeonjun looks at him back through the mirror, something glassy and unreadable in his gaze. He doesn’t think about Yeonjun’s hands fixing the collar of his suit, sharp nails against white.

“You okay there, Binnie?”

 _No_.

Soobin sighs a heavy breath. Yeonjun looks breathtaking like this. When everything’s mundane, easy, but he’s unaware of it. The slight tick of his forefinger as he brushes a strand of hair on his forehead, the dangling earring on Yeonjun’s left ear, how it moves and stops.

“Yeah, just nervous,” Soobin says in a half truth.

“Ugh, same,” he takes one last look on the mirror before turning around. He steps closer, and closer, until he’s in front of Soobin, just inches away. “How do I look?”

What a cruel thing to ask. What a cruel thing to ask when Yeonjun looks like this.

Soobin takes his time because he has the chance. He stares because he’s allowed, and skims his eyes slowly through his frame. His broad shoulders. The tie on his neck. Golden skin, lips red and tender.

“You know you look good,” Soobin says.

Yeonjun looks satisfied with that. He moves even closer until there are hands on Soobin’s shoulders, smoothing out his collar. He looks different like this, eternal, the room’s light an injustice to it.

“Yeah,” he nods, smug, then grins. “You can always tell me though.”

His hands don’t move, still pressed hot on his chest, waiting. Soobin stares at him once more, and caves in. “You look good, Junie,” he says again. It comes out faint. Unbearable.

“Thanks,” Yeonjun replies, grins wider. “You look good too.”

Yeonjun borrows and drives the family’s car. He taps his finger on the steering wheel, focused eyes on the road, and each second that passes by is a reminder that they’ll be apart. It’s not those fingers under the party’s lights, not those smiles on him when they dance.

When they arrive, the venue is already full. Everyone’s dressed up, clinking of heels on the parking lot, colors on colors on colors, and Soobin’s palm retract as a reflex, finding another to hold to ease it better.

But Yeonjun’s already running. He’s running to the top of the stairs, where Kai is shining, and they meet in the middle, like they have, a million times over. Maybe Soobin’s meant to be here, just inches away like a witness; stuck, motionless, because it was never his sight to see.

Soobin finds Beomgyu by the side. He’s wearing the same shade of suit as Soobin; just as dark, just as slick. His hair is fluffier than usual, curly locks on his forehead, and he looks stunning.

Beomgyu beams. The smile is full-blown, happy, and it doesn’t hurt. He reaches out for his hand, and Soobin twines them together. Rough fingers on his, but Soobin finds them warm. There’s nothing soft about it, but he holds him tenderly still. Like it’s a once in a lifetime chance, and Beomgyu wants it more.

“Hey,” he says.

Soobin smiles, and takes him in. “Hey. I like the suit.”

Beomgyu looks him over; down to the glint of his shoes. “I like yours too.”

He lost Yeonjun to Kai. During the moment he was talking to Beomgyu, they’ve slipped inside unknowingly. He lost him in a blink of an eye, just under his fingertips. He wonders if it’ll always be like this; he looks away once, and he’s gone.

The party is nice. The lights are fun, the music is loud, almost like a party he knows too well. There are balloons and decorations on the walls, tables with snacks and drinks, and everything screams _high school is ending_. High school is ending, and life is around the corner.

Soobin can’t help but feel upset about it. He’s wanted to graduate for a long time, but now that it’s _here_ , he desperately reaches out to it, begging time to slow down.

He just wants more time, he thinks. Time to accept that life goes on even when he’s not ready. Time to realize that the clock ticks, even when Soobin stands still, trying not to grow. The lights are flailing, the music is straining, and Soobin is stuck in the middle of it all. How did he get here?

Beomgyu slides close to him, until their hands are hot and tied, until his eyes are bright dots in the muted room. He smells stronger than Yeonjun. He smells like first love. He smells like what Soobin is supposed to feel.

Soobin holds him back. Hands on his waist, and Beomgyu’s hands move to cup his neck. There’s no room to breathe. There’s no room to breathe when Beomgyu is here and everywhere at once.

_It’s just a party._

Beomgyu doesn’t say anything. He presses close, but stays quiet. His eyes are brighter than they’ve ever been. Expectant, looming, open. Overwhelming, when Soobin catches it and Beomgyu is the boy at the bus stop too.

Wet uniforms. Raining sky, new skin, new smile.

Soobin looks at him, once, and more. It should ache. Here, in the arms of the boy who looks at him like he means everything. It should ache, but Soobin’s eyes are fleeting. Never lands.

Then, somewhere; through the fog of the lights, Soobin finds him.

Yeonjun isn’t looking at him. He’s laughing, head thrown back in bliss. There are hands on his arms, hair on his shoulder, another body on his planet. Kai sticks close to him, and Soobin dreads it when he leans in. Soobin looks away.

Doe eyes at him. Doe eyes that want him back. He looks at them instead.

 _He’s just a boy_.

“Thank you,” Soobin whispers to the air between them. He focuses on Beomgyu’s warmth, wiping the picture off his mind. Breathy, the way he said it. Unbearable.

“What for?”

“For coming with me,” he says, and leans in too. Their temples meet. “For saying yes.”

Beomgyu smiles; lights up, but doesn’t stop. “I wanted to go with you.”

“I know,” Soobin says sadly, because he does. “Still. Thank you.”

Beomgyu answers it by tiptoeing, nose on his cheek, whispers softly. “Do you want to get out?”

Soobin nods without thinking. Their hands are twined again, but now it’s more familiar, dear. The night air carresses him when they go out of the venue, and Beomgyu laughs as he runs. It’s a repeat of what happened that day; invisible rain on his suit, coldness on his hand he didn’t actually feel. Beomgyu brings him to a space between two cars, deep inside the parking lot, dark and barely seen.

“Hi,” Beomgyu greets him again, as if they were meeting for the first time. His smile is hidden by the shadow, moon on his teeth.

Soobin doesn’t think about it, hand on Beomgyu’s side until his back hits the car. “Hey,” he says, then there are rough fingertips on his neck, and a second-time mouth on his.

The kiss is unsettling. Beomgyu nips at his bottom lip like he's itching, his hands fold around him like stars. Soobin kisses him back because he can, under the moonlight, but it doesn’t feel like jealousy. It doesn’t feel like a mistake; not a sentence he didn’t even get to say. Not in the way Beomgyu pins his palms close to his skin like he can’t get enough of it. _Him,_ everything else.

If Soobin closes his eyes hard enough, he wants this too. He wants Beomgyu’s heady smell, the edge of his nails, how his body fits and locks against his. If he tries, there’s nothing wrong with how he feels. He’s not in love with his best friend, and he likes Beomgyu just as much.

“You’re,” Beomgyu rushes out, “good at this. Who’s your first kiss?”

He doesn’t know what he’s doing. He’s just as inexperienced, but Beomgyu accepts his fumbling lips, his tumbling kiss, eagerly, excitedly, and gives it back. His lips slide on his clumsily, yet Beomgyu thinks it’s _good_. It hurts in a revealing kind of way.

Soobin brushes the hair on Beomgyu’s forehead, and wishes he could answer it honestly. He leans in just enough, until their breaths collide. “You don’t know him,” he lies. “Who’s yours?”

Beomgyu laughs easily against his chest. “Shut up,” and shuts him up.

_He’s just a boy. He will get over it._

They stay like that; against the car; against the night, and Soobin forgets just a little. Forgets about another boy whose mouth isn’t his to miss.

Beomgyu is kissing a line on his jaw when Soobin’s phone rings.

“Wait,” Soobin reaches for it, but Beomgyu holds his hand back.

“ _No_ ,” he whines, then a drag of his coarse thumb on the skin below his ear that makes him shiver. “Don’t answer it.”

Soobin indulges in it for a moment, but his phone keeps ringing. He winces, disentangles just a little bit from Beomgyu’s hold, and answers the call without looking at the caller ID.

“Hello,” he says.

“ _Binnie, where are you_?” It’s Yeonjun’s voice, muffled, slightly panicky. Sounds like he’s been running, frantic, and Soobin is immediately alert.

“I’m here,” Soobin says, and lets go completely. Beomgyu sighs; a look of disappointment, even though it’s faint. He tries not to look at it. “Why, you okay?”

“ _Yeah, yeah, no, I’m fine_. _I’m just - I don’t really feel well, so, I’m going to the car. Just letting you know, if you still want to head back together, I’ll be waiting, but if you have somewhere else to be, that’s fine - I’ll go home alone. Just - just a heads up.”_

Yeonjun’s rambling, words slurring together, and Soobin’s heart drops in his stomach. He scrambles for something to say as he meets Beomgyu’s curious gaze.

“I’ll meet you there,” Soobin says, final.

“ _Are you not in the middle of something?_ _If you’re with Beomgyu, go ahead. I’ll be fine_. _I was just letting you know_.”

“No, no,” Soobin shakes his head. “I’m not. I’ll be there.”

“ _Okay. Bye, Binnie._ ”

“Bye, Junie,” he ends the call.

Beomgyu looks at him. There’s question in his eyes, but Soobin doesn’t know what to answer it with.

“Sorry,” Soobin sighs. He should just make it simple. “I need to go.”

“Is everything okay?”

“It’s fine,” he reassures. Beomgyu is still looking at him. “I just need to go.”

Beomgyu’s face morphs to something like an understanding. Then, he tilts his head, a quiet shake to his voice that wasn’t there before. “Is Yeonjun okay?”

Soobin grips his phone tighter. “Yeah, he’s fine.”

A nod. It’s a short nod, but tells him everything he needs to know. Beomgyu nods for the third time. “Okay, bye then?”

Soobin reaches for his hand, and Beomgyu still twines them together. More loose and slack than usual. “Hey, tonight was fun,” he says earnestly. “Truly. I had a blast. Thank you.”

Beomgyu smiles at him. Soobin doesn’t know what to do with it; doesn’t deserve it. Never did.

“Yeah, me too,” he says softly, despite it. “See you when I see you, Soobin.”

It only dawns on him then. He doesn’t know when he’ll see Beomgyu again. If it’s two months to the future, ten years from now, or never. Beomgyu doesn’t tell him to stay in touch, so he closes his mouth.

“Goodbye, Beomgyu,” he whispers, one last thing to break. He doesn’t say it back.

*

Yeonjun’s room is pitch black.

Soobin doesn’t stumble around because Yeonjun presses close to him and he knows where to go. As usual, his knee bumps the edge of the bed, and he fearlessly falls. It’s a familiar dive; he knows where he’d be.

There is the wall on his side, and Yeonjun’s warmth on his other. They make do of the too small bed. Filling in spaces that were never meant for them.

“You really need to get a new bed,” Soobin says.

Yeonjun elbows him, and laughs quietly. “We’re not even going to be here soon,” he whispers.

Soobin breathes, thinks about his open field. Yeonjun sounds sure that they’ll be there _soon_ , like a promise.

“I hope not,” he whispers back, because the future is never fixed. He wants it though, wants it more than anything. “We’ll get you a bigger bed then.”

Yeonjun shifts until their bare feet are tangled, and there’s a cheek on his collarbone. He’s so close like this, where Soobin can’t see but feel where he is. The lines of his hands, the smooth fabric of his suit, how his breath still smells like punch. It’s how he’s always been bared to Soobin. Simply his movements in the dark, yet Soobin knows it all too well.

He holds him, a delicate caress on the inside of his wrist. Soobin can’t see anything, but Yeonjun is here. He knows, because there is warmth and there is nothing, and then there is Yeonjun; sunny still despite the night.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Yeonjun nods against his bone.

“Are you sure?”

Yeonjun hesitates, then breaks. “Not really.”

Soobin moves until they’re facing each other. He easily finds Yeonjun’s hand between them, and Yeonjun easily wraps it around his. “Do you want to talk about it?” he asks, nudging him encouragingly.

His breaths are slow. Deliberate. He thinks about it for a moment; sharp nails on knuckles. Soobin lets the silence be a friend. “I just can’t believe it’s over,” he admits. _It_ being their graduation party. Being eighteen. Things that aren’t graspable anymore. “It was weird without you.”

It was weird dancing with someone else. Kissing a different mouth. Staying under the night sky in another hand’s hold. It was unnerving, out of place, and the whole night felt like a missing piece.

Even when it was never his to take. Not his to crave.

“You looked happy with Kai,” Soobin points out.

Yeonjun chuckles, sharp against the air. “Of course. Still weird without you.”

“We need to find a way to be without each other,” Soobin says, and holds Yeonjun’s hand tighter, closer, until there’s no more gap to break. “You’re way too clingy to be healthy.”

“And you’re not?” Yeonjun scoffs, kicking his shin.

“I don’t know where I’d be a year from now. Hell, even six months from now.”

“You’ll be in LA,” he answers quickly, like it was always ready on the tip of his tongue. “You’ll be in LA with me and we’ll be living our dream.”

Soobin knows it’s right there. Right in the corner, everything that he’s ever wanted. All that he needs to do left is wait. But that’s the hardest part out of anything else.

 _“_ You’ll have so many new friends,” Soobin says. That’s always the case. “I won’t be your first person to cling to anymore.”

Yeonjun answers by pressing closer, as if there was any space left. His nose brushes against the line of his neck. “No,” he denies. “You’re always my number one, Binnie.”

Soobin ignores it. Ignores the way his breath is warm on his skin, reminding him of a birthday party that never strayed too far. “What are you going to do with Kai?”

“What do you mean?”

“After this, are you still going to talk?”

“Probably not,” Yeonjun says, but he doesn’t sound too upset. “But we promised to stay in touch.”

“Okay.”

“You? How about Beomgyu?”

“He,” Soobin stops as the image of Beomgyu appears back in his mind. The look of disappointment on his face when the call ended. “He didn’t say anything.”

It’s probably for the best. He can’t keep hurting him like that.

“Ah, that sucks, Binnie,” Yeonjun squeezes his hand soothingly. Soobin feels sick to his stomach. “You’ll find someone else. Someone even _better_.”

Soobin wants to tell him there’s no one better for him. It’s still the same boy, the same heart, the same pitch black room. There’s no one else. He fumbles for Yeonjun’s hair and tucks a strand behind his ear.

“There’s no one better for me,” he breathes. It’s dark, but Yeonjun could probably see him enough.

Yeonjun doesn’t say anything for a moment, then a shaky laugh escapes his mouth. “Binnie, you’re only eighteen,” he says quietly. “There will be so much more Beomgyu for you in college. Trust me. They’d be crazy about you like he is.”

They’re not talking about the same thing anymore. Soobin doesn’t know how to break it to him, so he only nods. “Yeah, I guess.”

“They’ll be _so_ in love with you, you’re going to be sick of it,” Yeonjun goes on. “They will treat you well. They will look at you with so much love in their eyes. They will buy you ice cream when you’re sad. They will hold your hand in the dark.”

Yeonjun does just that and holds his hand again until there’s nothing else to miss. “They will love you, Binnie, because they can’t help it,” he says in a shuddering breath. “You deserve that, you know. You deserve the best.”

Soobin’s heart breaks silently. _I already have the best_ , he says somewhere inside of his ribs. _I have you_.

“Don’t be too sad about Beomgyu,” Yeonjun pokes his face, then finds what he’s looking for and thumbs at where his dimple would be. “You’ll find someone, I promise.”

 _Just pretend it never happened_.

Soobin knows those hands. Those fingertips at the back of his neck. That nonexistent mouth, disillusioned and false.

“Thanks, Junie,” he says through the same hard set of teeth.

“Hey,” Yeonjun calls, and Soobin’s always there to answer.

“Yeah.”

“I’ll watch over you,” he says.

A bus stop and a promise. Soobin is twelve again, except he’s seventeen in a balcony with another promise. Yeonjun seals the deal with a pretty mouth on his, and now he’s paying him in the form of being clueless.

 _It never happened_.

“You won’t see me in space,” Soobin tells him. “I would just be a dot, no, I won’t _even_ be a dot. I’ll be invisible to you.”

Yeonjun laughs, like it’s the silliest joke Soobin has ever said. It resounds in the echo of his room. Soft, gentle, and Soobin holds on to it.

“I’ll find a way,” he says. “I’ll find a way to you.”

“You better.”

“I will,” Yeonjun says again, and they’re on a spaceship away from home. The same one from a lifetime ago.

“Where to today, pilot?”

Yeonjun squeezes his hand like confirmation. “We’re already here,” and the galaxy simply never left.

_I’ll watch over you too._

_*_

The letter comes unexpectedly. It appears unassuming and innocent at his doorstep. He immediately rushes to call Yeonjun, his voice hoarse, and Yeonjun comes running to his house with expectation and anticipation bubbling high.

Yeonjun has the simple letter on his hand too. They sit on Soobin’s bed, heart on their throats.

“Oh my god,” he tries to breathe, but his heart is beating hard under his skin. “ _It’s here_.”

“Let’s open it together?”

Soobin isn’t ready. He isn’t ready to see what the future holds. His open field, just an arm-length away. He looks at Yeonjun, whose eyes are shining and expectant. Curious fingers on the surface of the letter, like he just wants to get it over with.

He rips it open, nervous tingle on his hands. _This is it_. This is what everything has been leading, what the last years have been boiled down to. “Okay.”

It’s silence for an agonizing minute; sounds of paper, rustling. Soobin moves around on the bed until his back is pressed to the cold of his wall. It’s cold on his heart too when he catches sight of the truth.

Yeonjun’s happy scream pierces him. With his bright eyes, bright smile, the relief rushing out of him, it’s evident what it says on his letter. It shows in how he looks at him; awed, the dream dangling unfairly close to him.

“I got in! Oh my god, Binnie, _I got in!”_

Soobin throws the letter away until he can’t feel the coarse surface on his skin. Painful tears on the edge of his eyes, but he can’t hold them back.

“I didn’t,” he says quietly. Until it doesn’t mean anything anymore.

“What?”

“I didn’t get in.”

Yeonjun scrambles for the letter. He pauses for a long time that the silence becomes cruel and painful.

“I didn’t get in,” he repeats, unfamilliar in his ears. Disbelieving, because this is what he’s wanted since he was six. He’s imagined it in his head for so long. This exact moment, except it never ends like this. It’s always a step closer to his dream; to somewhere brighter. It’s always happy news, happy heart, a happy dream within reach.

It’s not true. _It’s not coming true._

“Binnie,” Yeonjun says, too soft. Pitying.

He takes the letter from his hand and stares at it again until the words float and become unreal. He stares at it until his eyelids burn, but it doesn’t change. _We regret that we are not able to offer you admission...._

The letter falls to the floor silently, and Soobin doesn’t know what to make of it. It’s his dream, crushed in plain paper. _It wasn’t supposed to be like this_.

“Binnie, I’m not going,” Yeonjun says, the quickness to it terrifying. It makes Soobin’s head snap up, and through the tears in his eyes, he sees Yeonjun’s hopeful eyes. He knows an apology is there somewhere. It shouldn’t be there. Something hot like shame coiled hot in his stomach. “I’ll stay here with you. I don’t _need_ to go. I’m going to stay with you - ”

“Of course not, what the fuck are you talking about,” Soobin rasps harshly, his voice raising high. It’s disappointment, anger, regret muddled together, and it comes out like this; broken, not intact. “Just fucking go, Yeonjun.”

It was his dream. It was _his_ dream. It was always his open field, them together lying on the grass. It’s always been _his_ horizon.

It was always his to take. Not anymore.

“No, I’m not going to _leave_ you! We _promised_ to go together - ”

“Yes, you are!” Soobin yells, his throat closing up. He knows he’s being unreasonably angry, but he can’t help lashing out, ugly envy burning hot. “Yes, you fucking are! You’re going to _leave_ and I’m going to be here! The loser that _you_ left behind!”

Yeonjun flinches, but doesn’t back down. He meets his gaze in a rue moment.

“I’m sorry, Binnie,” Yeonjun whispers dreadfully.

It’s not his fault. None of this is his fault. It was Soobin’s idea to get Yeonjun apply too. It’s not his fault Soobin’s stupid and Yeonjun’s perfect, like he always has been.

Soobin’s open field. It comes crashing down, starts to rain in its usual dryness. The sun is nowhere to be seen, and he’s alone. Soobin’s open field is gone, dusty, motionless in its truth.

“Just go, Yeonjun,” his voice quivers. It hurts everywhere.

“Let’s just talk about it first, okay? Let’s talk about it - ”

“No, I mean right now,” he cuts him off. “I want you to go.”

It’s hard to look at him when Soobin is all tears and panic. It’s hard to think when the letter is somewhere on the floor and the pitying rejection is fresh in his mind.

Yeonjun stays still for a moment. The silence becomes unbearable the longer he stays, so Soobin stares at his hands instead. He doesn’t watch when the door closes.

*

Here’s how it goes. Here’s how he breaks.

He spends the rest of the night crying to his pillow until mom checks on him and he cries even more. She stays with him though, and drags her soft hand on his hair. He’s back being a little kid, heart on his sleeve. Hopeful, bigger heart.

“Did you kick Yeonjun out?”

Soobin almost shakes his head, but can’t go through lying to her. “Yeah,” he says, just now feeling guilty when the anger has worn down. “Did you see him out?”

“Yeah, he looked pretty upset.”

“I’m sorry,” Soobin says, muffled.

She laughs softly and pats his head, comforting. Soobin slides closer to her until the tears are hoter, and hoter, and they finally melt on his skin.

“I’m not the one who should hear that, Soobin-ah. Why were you mad at him?”

He doesn’t know. Hours after it happened, he can’t really tell why he was so furious. Looking back, maybe it was that excitement that blended into fear the moment he realized what was the letter about.

It wasn’t good news.

“I wanted it so bad,” he says honestly. It hurts again, needles pinching right through his lungs. “I wanted it more than anything.”

“I know you did. You worked hard for it. It doesn’t change that fact.”

“Of course it does,” Soobin retorts. “Yeonjun got in. I didn’t.”

It’s crazy to think about. That he’s waited _years_ for this day. He’s waited, and tried, and dreamed, but in the end he doesn’t get the chance to see it.

She sighs fondly. Soobin cries a little bit more. “What’s wrong with Seoul?” she asks quietly, pondering. “Staying here doesn’t mean you failed. You’re just choosing a different dream.”

There’s nothing wrong with Seoul. There’s nothing wrong with going to university here, Soobin’s home for his whole life. There’s nothing wrong with a new dream. It’s just not the one that he _wants_.

It’s never Seoul that he thinks about when he thinks about his future. It’s never the same sky, the same air, the same old streets. It’s always something new, something _more_ , a new taste of life he wants to feel.

There’s nothing wrong with it. He’s sure it would still be a happy time, but this wasn’t what _he_ wanted.

All dreams are attainable. That’s what everyone says. Soobin thinks it’s time to realized that it wasn’t true. It’s been eighteen years of believing a lie, and maybe he should’ve seen it from the start.

“I don’t want a different dream,” Soobin whispers quietly.

“Do you want Yeonjun to stay?”

“No,” he says, then flinches. “Yes.”

“Yes?”

“I want to be where he is,” he admits, and the bareness of the truth makes him almost shy. He curls even further into myself, but Mom doesn’t let go. “But I don’t want him to stay.”

He wishes there was a way for that. A way for them to still be together, even when they have to be apart. A way to still be twelve year old boys in a bus stop, stuck together like gravity.

“You guys will be okay,” she reassures, her voice soothing. Soobin sinks even deeper. “You will figure it out.”

Not all dreams are attainable. The truth was revealed to him in a moonlit balcony with a mouth he needs to forget, and now it comes in a form of a faraway dream he never got to reach. He should’ve known. It was always there.

“Yeah,” Soobin nods, thinks about Yeonjun’s sad eyes and how he silently left without saying anything. That’s how Yeonjun loves him back. “Mom, I need to say sorry to him.”

She smiles softly. “You can do it tomorrow. Sleep now, it’s late.”

“But I feel terrible,” he clutches the bed sheets, his heart clenching. “I want to say sorry now.”

“Let him sleep too, Soobin-ah,” Mom brushes his bangs. His hair is starting to get long. He closes his eyes once, and lets himself breathe.

He’ll do it tomorrow. He’ll do it tomorrow, and he’ll be okay.

Mom doesn’t turn the lights off. He’s not in space, but he’s safe.

*

When it comes down to it, Soobin is rejected twice. Twice, in the presence of the same boy.

He wakes up and feels terrible all over again. The ceiling is too high, his bed too crammed, and his skin feels tight against his shirt. It’s that sinking, dawning realization again that he isn’t going to LA with his best friend.

Soobin goes down the stairs like a zombie, hair askew, mouth dry, his heart beating sadly inside of the restrained lines of his lungs. Mom gives him a look, Dad doesn’t say anything, so Soobin makes breakfast and goes upstairs again, eating it on his bed instead.

When he doesn’t think about it too much, it’s fine. It’s fine, it’s not the end of the world. He’ll go to a nice university here in Seoul, Yeonjun goes to embark on a journey without him, and maybe it’s not going to be a wounded, painful road. Maybe it’ll be clean, and effortless, and Soobin won’t be hurt anymore.

Time heals, they say, except he’s living in it right now. He’s in the middle of the whirling mess of Time, and he needs to feel it today. He can’t flash forward his life five years to the future, where it’s hopefully _better,_ happier, and he’s no longer a confused eighteen year old boy on his eighteen year old bed.

Soobin finishes his breakfast, cleans the dishes, and runs upstairs again. He closes the door until it clicks, then burrows himself deeper into his sheets.

The morning bleeds into afternoon, then shifts into the darker shade of an evening sky, then slowly, it becomes pitch black and lighter than it has ever been. Soobin peeks through his window, sees the stars, and thinks of a time-consuming boy.

It’s easy. It’s always easy with Yeonjun. They used to fight a lot back then. It was always over something silly; six years old fighting over the TV channel, or Yeonjun looking at him with determined eyes over the last piece of cookie. But they always compromised, they always caved in, giving in. They promised to take turns with the channels, and the cookie ended up being split. Both happy; none hurt.

It doesn’t matter now, because they’re not six years old anymore. They’re gambling on a future, and Soobin doesn’t want to stand in his way.

So he runs, like he always has. He runs through the three houses between them, familiar wind, floaty feet that always come running for the same boy. One, two, three, _Yeonjun_.

He knocks his door, and waits. Waits and waits, because his heart is a beating thing.

Yeonjun opens the door.

His eyes go wide when he sees that it’s Soobin. He looks like he hasn’t had a blink of sleep, tiredness evident in the darkness of his eyebags.

“Hey,” he says hoarsely.

Soobin shuffles uneasily, then shrugs, feigning for nonchalance. “Walk with me?”

Yeonjun looks surprised, mouth hanging open. “Really?”

“Yeah, walk with me,” Soobin nods, full of hope. It breaks his heart a little. Maybe a lot.

“Okay,” then he closes the door.

The night is warm. Yeonjun walks an arm distance away, hands inside his pockets, cheeks rosy. Soobin lets it linger, just for a moment longer, until the silence is theirs alone.

Yeonjun breaks it first. He sighs, then stops walking. Pinches the bridge of his nose, before looking at Soobin with something sad in his eyes.

“If I go,” he says. “You go.”

Soobin laughs softly, uncontrollable fondness bubbling inside of his chest. A nice sentiment to say, but he sees how unrealistic it is now. It’s not scary, he realizes. The distance between them right now, just a few steps away. Yeonjun smiles faintly against the light.

“That’s very sweet, Yeonjun,” Soobin strides to him until they’re a step closer. “But how do you think we could do that?”

“I don’t know. I could put you in my suitcase.”

“I’m taller than you.”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

Soobin stands in front of him, and Yeonjun looks up. They’re glinting, his eyes, and the moon’s watching again. He sighs, bracing himself. “I’m sorry,” he says quietly, genuinely. “I’m sorry for yelling at you.”

Yeonjun nods, pursing his lips. “It’s okay. I understand.”

Maybe, if Soobin takes one step at a time, it won’t be a gaping wound. Maybe that’s all there is to it. One step, another, and the earth would fold itself and they’d meet in the middle.

There are so many things unsaid. In his throat, in Yeonjun’s visible held breath, in the looming ticking night. He doesn’t know how to say them, but Yeonjun takes the lead and finds his hand.

It’s a comforting weight. Fingers wrapping around his as they walk again.

“Binnie,” he says.

“Junie.”

It’s the elephant in the room that neither wants to address. Yeonjun tells him with the warmth of his hand, and Soobin talks about it with his closed jaw.

There’s really nothing to talk about. There shouldn’t even be a decision to make.

“What do you think I should do?” Yeonjun asks eventually.

“What do you want?”

Yeonjun doesn’t answer. Soobin waits for it.

“You,” he says to the night, eternal. “I don’t want to leave you.”

Soobin huffs lightly, tugging him close. “You can’t really get rid of me. I’m like a leech.”

Hooded from the shadow, Yeonjun looks at him miserably. “Who do I hug when I’m there?”

It’s always the case. It never changes. There’s always someone brighter for him. Someone who Yeonjun would take into a deserted balcony and kiss tenderly. Someone whose mouth isn’t his. Not Soobin’s forgettable, never-there lips.

“You’ll find someone,” he rasps. “You always do.”

Yeonjun holds his elbows, sharp grounding nails on him. It’s desperate, his eyes flailing wildly on his face. “Binnie,” he says again.

Soobin doesn’t want to talk about it. There was an attempt, but it’s hollow now.

“It’s fine, Junie,” he reassures, even when he doesn’t really know. He thought he’d study abroad too, but that doesn’t happen. He doesn’t know anything. The future’s not his to tell. “It’ll be fine. I promise.”

They’ve lived in this neighbourhood for eighteen years. He knows all the steps, recognizes every lights. He’s familiar with everyone around, even those he doesn’t talk to.

Yeonjun’s lived here for eighteen years too, but he’s leaving.

It was supposed to be his goodbye. It was supposed to be Soobin looking longingly at these houses, nostalgic, aiming for a foreign neighbourhood he hasn’t seen.

It’s not his goodbye. He’s staying. He has time to look at the houses. They’re not going anywhere.

“You have nothing to worry about, you know,” Soobin says quietly. “I’ll still be here.”

Yeonjun doesn’t say anything, but his gaze is heavy. It’s unsaid how much it’ll change. How different their lives would be. Soobin dreads the possibility that they would grow apart, the distance cold and open.

“It’s just four years,” Yeonjun whispers-giggles. Odd in the silence, but Soobin laughs too.

“Yeah, it’s just four years,” Soobin says, laughs harder when he says it out loud. Suddenly it’s easier, and it’s a reminder of how easy it has been for them to stay friends. They’ve been stuck together for eighteen years. Four years should be _nothing_.

“Okay,” Yeonjun says. “Okay.”

“Okay,” Soobin says, and the rest is unsaid.

*

It’s bittersweet.

The months leading up to Yeonjun’s departure feels empty, almost like a dream. Soobin spends all the days with him, in his room, pitch black but never silent. They laugh a lot, like they always do. They laugh, and hold hands, and the sun is always there. When the night comes and the moon peeks, Soobin looks away.

They don’t play pretend anymore, but Soobin is, in his own way. He’s pretending that it doesn’t hurt, seeing Yeonjun slowly packs his life in a suitcase. He pretends it’s a familiar sight to watch Yeonjun go, out of this room, out of this house, out of his life. He pretends there’s nothing wrong with that. He pretends that it doesn’t sting, just a little bit, to see his field opening up for Yeonjun and not him.

They make do of it the best they can. They don’t talk about it either. Yeonjun brushes past it everyday, pretends in his own way too that he’s not leaving, and Soobin lets him ignore it because it’s easier that way. They’re both eighteen and playing pretend, and somehow it’s the most familiar thing.

Yeonjun plays Interstellar for the third time that week. He sniffles on Soobin’s shirt. A routine, a habit, and Soobin is back to the edge of the wall, and reminiscing when they watched it for the first time.

It’s still the same picture. Yeonjun’s dark room, Yeonjun’s too small bed, Yeonjun’s silent cries. Still the same arm pressing on his, the same tears and heart.

Suddenly it’s one month left, then three weeks, and then one day.

One night.

“Let’s build a fort,” Soobin suggests.

Yeonjun raises a brow at him, amused. There is a familiar twinkle in his eyes. He quickly stands up, fixes his crumpled shirt, and chirps. “Oh my god, yes _please_.”

So they do. They bicker for awhile because Soobin has forgotten where the end of the sheets should end up, and Yeonjun keeps making a mess after it’s successfully stood tall and they have to start over again.

After a few moments of stumbling around, the fort is done.

It’s not the best. The left side is weak and falling apart, the roof is a little wonky, but Yeonjun claps his hands and goes inside anyway. Soobin turns the light off and follows him.

“This is,” Yeonjun says, but stops.

“I know,” Soobin says, because he does.

It’s surreally dark again. His eyes blink at the lack of the light, adjusting. There’s really nothing up there, but Soobin still stares at it, until it grows, and expands, and another milky way blooms just for them.

They don’t talk about it. It’s been months of silence, because neither knows how to say it. A goodbye at the edge of his tongue, but he’s not brave enough to spit it out.

Soobin isn’t brave. He’s a coward.

He’s a _wimp_.

He’s been pretending for so long. He’s been pretending that the kiss didn’t mean anything. He’s been pretending that Yeonjun wasn’t beautiful under the moon.

He’s pretending that he’s getting over him when he’s not.

Soobin never gets past the first step. _Forget about Yeonjun’s smile._ As if he could burn the sight, as if it wasn’t already imprinted everywhere on his skin.

It doesn’t matter though, because Yeonjun’s leaving tomorrow.

“Junie,” he calls, scared. “Aren’t you afraid of the dark?”

“Never.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know.”

“You told me you wanted to go to Mars.”

“I still do,” Yeonjun chuckles, a soft sound that rings. “You’re going with me.”

“Let’s go to Pluto.”

“Sure. I’m the best pilot alive.”

“Of course you are,” Soobin says fondly. He knows it was never real. He knows it was always just a child’s dream, a fantasy, something that little Yeonjun saw on TV that never really left. Yeonjun was never going to be an astronaut. Soobin was never his right hand man. “Where to today?”

“Mm,” Yeonjun hums. “Where do _you_ want to go?”

Soobin thinks about it, heart breaking a little when Yeonjun finds his hand. It’s an ode to a promise six years ago. “Let’s stay,” he whispers quietly. That’s what he wants, more than anything else. “Let’s just stay here.”

Yeonjun stiffens for a moment, hears him just enough. “Okay, Binnie.”

 _You’re leaving_ , he says with a soft nudge. It goes unnoticed. _You’re leaving tomorrow._

“Would you watch over me?” Soobin asks for the first time in eighteen years. Suddenly he wants a reassurance, another promise. He holds onto Yeonjun’s hand uneasily.

Yeonjun doesn’t let him go. He holds his hand just as tight. It’s as desperate, as flimsy. Fragile in its frail attempt to holding on to the moment.

Soobin’s open field is broken, echoey, but there’s still Yeonjun. There’s still Yeonjun with him there, their hands still aligned, and even when the sun’s gone, he sees him crystal clear.

“I’ll watch over you,” Yeonjun promises. “Earth isn’t that far, Binnie.”

“LA is, though,” Soobin croaks weakly.

“LA _is_ on Earth, you dummy.”

“You know what I mean.”

“I know,” Yeonjun says softly. “I still think you could fit in my suitcase.”

“Is it too late?”

“No, we have all night to cram you inside.”

“Let’s do it then.”

Yeonjun laughs, then hugs him. His arm slides across his torso, a warm hand on his waist. “Can’t we just go to Pluto right now? I heard it’s pretty chilly there.”

“That’s just an excuse for you to cuddle me.”

“It’s not my fault you’re a giant teddy bear.”

Soobin hugs him back. He feels Yeonjun’s chin on his shoulder. Everything is heavier. Even the air; stuffy, thick, like something’s fogging and no one’s cleaning it up.

They’re still not really talking about it. They’re dancing around it. A waltz in an empty ballroom.

“Binnie,” Yeonjun says. “I love you.”

 _I love you too,_ he says it back _,_ like he always have. But he can’t say it like that.

“I love you too,” he replies instead. It’s lighter in his mouth; made-up. It’s not how he wants to say it, but he pretends that it is.

“I hope the weather’s nice there,” Yeonjun says. They still aren’t talking about it.

The elephant in the room is huge, unavoidable. “Yeah, Junie. Me too,” he agrees quietly, avoidable.

The night slowly closes in, but they don’t talk about what tomorrow means. They don’t talk about it, but Yeonjun pretends, and Soobin pretends, and that’s how they know.

*

Soobin drags Yeonjun’s suitcase from the car to the airport.

The sun’s out. Even though it’s a warm afternoon, Yeonjun is wearing his pastel sweater. Soobin thinks about Kai’s watch that Yeonjun left behind in his drawer. There’s no metallic taste today, no more reminder. Just like the beach; one thing of Soobin that he takes with him, one thing of Kai that he didn’t bring. That patient sweater, that forgettable watch. He doesn’t know if it should mean anything.

Stark white halls, clear windows, tall ceilings. Soobin feels like he’s stuck in a dream, trying to escape before it’s too late. He stares quietly at everyone else; people saying goodbyes, people meeting for the first time. It’s a mess of farewell and collision, and Soobin thinks it’s _both_ for them.

It’s a long walk inside. It’s a long, terrible talk, but Soobin puts on a smile for him. Yeonjun looks happy, excited, and his lips are wide and soft. That’s always been the case anyway. It’s the same thing, always; Yeonjun choosing Kai over him, now he’s choosing LA over him.

It was supposed to be the both of them. Soobin was supposed to join him with his own suitcase, and they were going to see a different sky.

 _You’re leaving,_ he says to Yeonjun’s back. _You’re leaving me_.

Yeonjun doesn’t talk much. He lets the silence be another indication that something’s terribly wrong. Something’s different, something’s changing, an orbit shifting.

Maybe Yeonjun’s making it easier for him too. Maybe if they talked about it, Yeonjun would never have the strength to leave. His eyes are fleeting, ephemeral, uneasy. Soobin presses close to him as they walk to Yeonjun’s gate. It’s a never-ending door to a never-ending tomorrow.

“Do you remember to pack everything?” Soobin asks absentmindedly, as the clock starts counting down, and their time is thinning. People are walking through the gates, bustling, hurried. He feels that sinking feeling, panic rushing to his head. He’s running out of time. He’s running out of things to say.

“Yeah, of course,” Yeonjun nods, unhurried and weighed.

“Okay,” Soobin rasps, then stares at him.

Yeonjun stares at him back; and it’s a silent dread between them. His eyes are round, open, frantically searching. Soobin knows that they’re both afraid. Soobin knows that this is unknown water, a terrifying jump, but someone needs to be brave enough to say it.

“You’re leaving,” Soobin lets it out, breathless. “Yeonjun, you’re leaving.”

It feels like a punch to the gut as Yeonjun slowly wraps himself around him and hugs him tightly. The soft fabric of his sweater under Soobin’s palms, and he breathes him in until he can’t remember anything else.

“It’s only four years,” he says, chuckles again, an empty reassurance. He presses into him until their chests meet, his fingers on the back of his neck. He’s only a breath away, nothing else between them except their desperation. Soobin holds him back and feels him for the first time all over again until he’s the only tangible thing he’s ever held.

Soobin closes his eyes. He hears a familiar music, loud and bumpy in his ears. He hears the same pulse point, drumming against his skin. The smell of beer on his mouth. Tender hands on him, tender boy. A moonlit balcony, permanently etched.

“It’s only four years,” he echoes him, and he’s back to a birthday party that never ends.

Yeonjun knocks his forehead on his softly. This close, Soobin could lean in, and that kiss would mean something. Soobin could chase after him, and that night would finally cease. This close, Soobin could pretend that Yeonjun wants him back, and that kiss means something to him too.

He listens delicately to Yeonjun’s patient breaths, like he’s revelling in it, in him. Memorizing the shape of Soobin’s bones, trailing his fingetips to the pillow of his cheeks. Yeonjun’s taking him in, slowly, torturously, that Soobin feels his lungs emptied. His nails are on him, and Soobin wants to kiss him again.

_It never happened._

“I need to go, Binnie,” Yeonjun whispers after their warmth starts becoming a burden. It’s another rejection when he disentangles himself from him, and his eyes are glassy and misty and sad. He holds his hand, a silent goodbye, a voiceless love. “Don’t worry. I’ll be back before you know it.”

“You better,” Soobin says, broken. There’s a lingering taste between his knuckles when Yeonjun finally lets him go.

He waves his hand when he goes past the gate, a bright smile on his lips. He keeps waving until he’s barely seen, and he’s gone, and Soobin lost him. Once, twice, a thousand times.

Yeonjun wants to be an astronaut, so he leaves him behind.


	2. a light-year away, supernova

Seoul is almost a day ahead from LA.

That’s what Soobin realizes at first. He’s a day into the future from Yeonjun.

His weekend comes first. His morning comes first. His night sky rolls in first. It’s like being in a chase, but winning doesn’t satisfy him.

 _Good morning,_ Yeonjun texts him, but it’s not morning in Seoul.

 _Good night,_ Soobin texts him back, but it’s not night in LA.

The thing about distance is it feels like an empty wound. It only starts sinking in at night when his day ends, yet Yeonjun is still living an entire sixteen hours without him.

It feels like an empty wound, because he’s not three houses away. Not anymore. He stares at his ceiling, his bed sheets underneath him, and realizes Yeonjun’s not going to be there when he starts counting from _one_.

One, two, three, it should be _four,_ but he’s not here.

Another thing about distance is it breaks habit. Especially when it’s shared with someone he knows so well. The distance breaks that safe routine in his life. It breaks that _bubble_ , that shelter. The change feels the hardest when Soobin looks at the clock and he has to consciously change the time in his head, _has_ to imagine what Yeonjun’s sky looks like. It’s never the same sky. Never the same color, never the same hue.

It breaks a habit. Soobin can’t run to his house anymore. It breaks a habit. Soobin can’t talk to him in any hour of the day, in any second he chooses of the hour. It breaks a habit. No familiar body on Yeonjun’s too small bed.

It breaks a habit. Soobin sleeps with the lights on, and he forgets how it feels to be under the galaxy, and Yeonjun is within an arm-length away. Suddenly he’s nine and a half thousand kilometers away from him. Suddenly Soobin wishes for a million other arms to reach where he is.

Yeonjun’s birthday is a week before the semester starts. Soobin thinks of it as an anniversary. A one-year anniversary of Soobin being a fool. A one-year endless kiss yet Soobin chases after it still, like it ever mattered. He’s the loser who can’t move on from a drunken mistake.

It’s been a year. What a cruel joke that Yeonjun started it in Seoul but it ended on Soobin’s open field, skies away from home.

Soobin waits until midnight, because they always do. It’s another habit to break. Another thing to remember that it’s not the same night for Yeonjun. Not the same birthday, never was. Soobin waits until twelve, and calls him when the clock finger gets past it.

“Happy birthday,” he says. It tastes bitter in his mouth, still like beer, ghostly and faint.

Technically it’s not his birthday yet. It isn’t the thirteenth yet in LA.

That’s what Yeonjun says too, as he answers the call and laughs, “ _Not yet, you impatient boy_.”

“Twice, then,” Soobin decides. “You get two happy birthdays from me.”

“ _Okay, I like that_.”

Soobin waits until four to say it again. It feels strange to do it, but he promised him, so he starts the call anxiously. Yeonjun’s breath on the end of the line is expectant.

“Happy birthday,” he says, softer this time.

Yeonjun laughs at him. “ _Thanks. It’s late, I’m going to sleep now.”_

The evening light streaks to Soobin’s room. It’s not night here. “Okay,” he says through the sharp sting on his chest. “Good night then.”

And that’s that. It isn’t momumental. That day never meant anything to Yeonjun anyway. It has always been Soobin thinking it meant something more, so Soobin pretends it doesn’t either. It should be easier that way.

They stay in contact, despite how hard it is. It’s hard to adjust to the time difference. Too much sometimes. Sixteen hours apart. It used to be three houses; a few steps away. Now it’s sixteen hours, and Soobin learns how to count again. Yeonjun texts him everyday, telling him all about it. From moving in to his new dorm room, his new roommates, how he keeps Soobin’s sweater beside his pillow so it feels like he’s there with him too.

His days bleed to each other, unknowingly and blurred, until life finally starts again.

The first day of college is as hard as he thought it would be. It’s packed, stuffy, too much people, _noise_. His first day feels like how school usually ends. People storming out, unknown territory, his skin itching for another hand to hold. Yeonjun’s usually there for him. There has always been another hand to hold, a grounding thing. It’s the first time he needs to do everything on his own. There’s no one to help him. Another habit to break. Yeonjun’s not _here_ anymore.

They don’t talk on the phone a lot because their days are never aligned, and time always interferes. It’s a surprise when Yeonjun calls him on his second day, just a few minutes after the clock strikes twelve at night.

“ _Binnie?_ ” he says through the phone. It’s a little muffled, but Soobin’s more awake than he has ever been in his life. “ _You’re still awake?_ ”

“Yeah,” Soobin croaks out, relief seeping through until he’s weightless. “Yeah, I’m awake.”

“ _Thank god,”_ Yeonjun sighs happily, like he’s been holding it in the entire day. Maybe he has, and that’s why he’s calling. “ _I had the craziest first day_...”

So Yeonjun talks, like he hasn’t been gone for awhile. He talks, as if the line was stable, and Soobin didn’t miss a lot of his second words. Yeonjun talks easily, such bright joy apparent in his voice.

Soobin wonders if it means he’s doing okay. If Yeonjun didn’t feel the stabbing pain of the distance like him.

Because Soobin feels it deep inside of his bones. Imploding, obnoxious, _unfair_. It stings in his quiet moments, still burns in his loudest.

“ _I made a new friend, by the way. His name is Erik. I swear he is the coolest person I know. Do you know what he did today? He...”_

Soobin sticks his phone between his temple and the pillow, closes his eyes as Yeonjun keeps rambling about Erik and his cool clothes and his cool smile. He talks about him until Soobin can picture him in his head.

“That’s great, Junie,” he says, ignoring the sharp jolt in his heart.

“ _I know. Oh my god, we listen to the same music too, can you believe that? It’s like I was meant to meet him or something...”_

As he continues his story, Soobin mentally notes that it’s almost nine o’clock in the morning in LA. Soobin has finished his second day, and Yeonjun is just starting his. It’s messing with his mind, how this works, that they’re living in two seperate realities.

Yeonjun sounds happy. Soobin sees it, in his faraway room, kilometers away from where it actually is; that happy smile, that sunny gaze. He falls in love again, he thinks. Through the static noise, through their different worlds, Soobin falls in love again.

And maybe, this is how he deals with it now.

To get over Choi Yeonjun, he needs to forget about his voice.

Because it’s familiar, even now, as Yeonjun’s voice cracks through the call. Because it still sounds like him, even now, as he exists in another earth.

It should be easier. They don’t see each other physically anymore. Soobin doesn’t have to see that stupid smile everyday, and maybe this way he’ll get over him in no time.

Yeonjun’s voice is honey in his ears, calming, lulling. Still smooth like silk, even as he’s talking about Erik and his cool piercings.

“ _I think you’d get along with him.”_

“Yeah,” Soobin nods, gulping it down. He doesn’t think he will. “Maybe.”

Soobin stays in place, his body curling small on himself. His eyelids pressing down hard as he tries to strip the envy from his heart. Despite everything, he still wants it too. To study somewhere else. To see another horizon. But he’s _stuck_ , in his eighteen year old bed and his eighteen year old house.

At one point, he falls asleep, and Yeonjun’s voice flies and evaporates from his hold.

The first thing he sees in the morning is Yeonjun’s texts.

**junie**

_hey, you fell asleep :(_

_i didn’t get a chance to ask you about your first day. how was it?_

_you’ll see this in the morning, so good morning binnie! talk to me when you can, okay?_

Soobin thinks about Erik.

**me**

_yeah, sorry. i was really tired :(_

_there’s nothing special about my first day btw_

_good evening to you_

_i’m off to class. bye junie_

Soobin still uses Beomgyu’s notebook. There is still a good portion of it left. He listens to the class, takes notes as best as he can, goes home when everything’s finished. He doesn’t linger too long, doesn’t stay unless he has to. He doesn’t look at anyone, talk to anyone. He’s trying, but it’s only his third day. He’ll try harder tomorrow.

He commutes the bus to go home. There are no pebbles to count anymore. No uniform on his, not another voice talking. It’s silent now. It’s silent where Yeonjun used to be, and Soobin wonders if he’ll ever get used to it. Or if he _needs_ to get used to it. If this is how it’ll be down the road, always the case.

Soobin doesn’t think about the bus stop. He doesn’t think about a bus stop and a promise, or a bus stop with pouring rain. He doesn’t think about anything; because that happened, and he’s here now.

No pebbles to count. No rain on his skin.

It’s not supposed to hurt. Memories aren’t supposed to hurt. People aren’t supposed to hurt.

Whatever he feels, it doesn’t change a thing.

So he goes home. He doesn’t stare at Yeonjun’s house when he arrives. He goes past his door, kisses his mom on the cheek, greets his dad, and strides upstairs. He doesn’t look at his phone either.

It’s only ten when Yeonjun calls him again. But right now it’s a video call.

“ _Binnie!”_ he greets cheerfully, but lowly, his face appearing on Soobin’s screen. There’s a faint morning glow, barely there. Soobin does the math in his head; it’s only six in LA. “ _Hey. What are you doing?_ ”

Soobin ignores the thumping of his heartbeat. He makes way to the bed, closing his notebook, shoving his back to the wall. He takes a second to look at Yeonjun.

He’s still in bed. His hair is messy, fringe poking his eyebrows. There’s something familiar about it. That fleeting second when Yeonjun’s eyes shine in recognition, just a little, when Soobin shows on the screen too.

“Hey,” Soobin says softly, missing him more than he could ever say. “I was just studying, you?”

“ _I just woke up. I think you can see that,”_ Yeonjun whispers quietly, chuckles as the phone comes closer to his face and Soobin only sees the bridge of his nose. “ _Sorry I look like a mess_.”

Soobin shakes his head, his heart clenching silently. “You look like shit.”

“ _No, I don’t._ ”

“You just said you look like a mess.”

“ _You weren’t supposed to agree with me_.”

Soobin laughs, the day’s exhaustion seeping away. “Yeah, well.”

“ _I put an alarm for you,_ ” Yeonjun tells him warmly. “ _I wanted to talk to you_.”

“Why?”

“ _I called too late yesterday, that’s why you fell asleep,”_ he says. “ _I don’t want you to be tired when you get up_ _tomorrow_.”

Soobin lies himself down until they’re both horizontal. He looks at Yeonjun through the screen, smiles at him when he smiles too. It’s easy to pretend that they aren’t an ocean apart.

“Thanks,” that’s what he says.

“ _Of course_ ,” Yeonjun beams. “ _So, how was your day? Tell me._ ”

Soobin tells him the good things. He tells him about the university building; how it’s _huge,_ nice, airy. He talks about how the classes have so far been okay and fun. There’s not a lot to say.

“That’s it, honestly,” Soobin murmurs. “It’s been fine.”

“ _No friend yet?_ ”

He shakes his head sullenly, almost ashamed. It’s like being called out to what he’s been doing the past few days. “Not really.”

“ _Ah, don’t worry about it, Binnie. You’re great. You’ll meet so many great people too._ ”

Soobin smiles at him. It feels like Yeonjun’s here again. “I’m not like you. I don’t make friends everywhere I go.”

“ _You’re my best friend though,_ ” Yeonjun giggles. “ _Wait, let me show you something_.”

He moves for a moment, the camera panning the ceiling, but then he comes back to something familiar in his hand.

“ _Look, it’s you_ ,” he puts it on his cheek, squished.

It’s Yeonjun’s earth keychain. Its round, shiny surface on his face. It makes Soobin laugh.

“ _I have you here with me. I bring you everywhere too. You’re there when I’m in class. You’re there when I sleep. You’re always there.”_

Soobin fumbles for his bag, tugs the attached keychain until it shows on the screen too. “It’s you,” he says, the telescope dangling.

Yeonjun’s eyes are crescents, soft laughs out of his mouth. “ _I’m the best best friend ever_.”

Soobin’s not really pretending. “Yeah, you are _._ ”

They talk until it’s midnight and Soobin’s eyes are heavy, but his heart is lighter.

 _“Good night, Binnie_ ,” Yeonjun says as the morning light makes a home on his skin, but Soobin barely hears it. His voice is graspable again.

*

The first time Kang Taehyun talks to Soobin, it’s in the middle of a lecture.

He’s seen him before. He’s seen him in class and outside of it; choppy brown hair, bright open eyes, a kind smile. He sees him again today, sitting beside him, and Taehyun is eyeing his table.

“Hey, sorry,” he whispers quietly. “Can I borrow a pen?”

“A pen,” Soobin repeats dumbly.

“Yeah,” he nods, wincing. “I left mine at home.”

Soobin blinks at him confusedly for a moment. He doesn’t bring an extra; just the one he’s holding right now. He doesn’t tell him though, and hands it to him anyway.

“Thanks,” he says gratefully.

It’s weird. He hasn’t really talked to anyone yet. He spends just a second more to look at him properly, who is now already perched down on his desk and taking notes. Soobin looks at the projector again.

And somehow that becomes a thing. Taehyun sits beside him the next day, and he offers him his pen again. He intentionally brings another one, just in case.

“Oh, no,” he laughs, then flicks the pen on his hand. “I’ve got one now. Thanks, though.”

“I’m Soobin,” he introduces himself awkwardly.

“Taehyun,” he says, a friendly smile. “Nice to meet you.”

“You too.”

And somehow that becomes a thing. At lunch, he sees him again, and Taehyun waves his hand. On the way home, Taehyun waits on the same bus stop, and Soobin waves his hand back.

Kang Taehyun is intimidating. He raises his hand at class, a witty mind with a quick mouth, and his eyes are sharp. He looks like he knows what he’s doing, knows exactly what he wants. Soobin can’t really relate to that, but Taehyun gravitates toward him and talks to him during class and it’s _exciting_. Soobin’s life has always revolved around Yeonjun, and it’s nice to see how it unfolds when he’s not here.

And somehow they become friends. Taehyun asks for his notes. He takes the spot next to him during lunch. Taehyun texts him memes and Soobin texts him pictures of cute dogs. It’s nice. A new habit he doesn’t mind. A new habit that doesn’t hurt.

It’s a scary thing at first, but Taehyun is overwhelmingly easy to talk to. He’s his first friend after Yeonjun. It warms Soobin’s heart a little. It shouldn’t be a big deal, but it is for him. It’s a small little step, but a step forward at least.

“I hate Mr. Lee’s class, he’s so _boring_ ,” Taehyun complains to him one day. “Let’s get coffee or something.”

There’s a nice coffee shop within walking distance near their university. Taehyun opens the door, the bells chime, and Soobin takes a seat near a window.

He doesn’t tell him that he doesn’t like coffee. He doesn’t particularly mind it, but it’s too bitter for his tongue, and he likes ice cream better anyway. He doesn’t tell him though, because Taehyun already takes his order. He brings two mugs of coffee to their table.

“Who’s Beomgyu?” Taehyun asks him suddenly, so nonchalant.

Soobin chokes on air. “What?”

Taehyun laughs at him, then sits calmly. He takes his time to sip his coffee, watching delightly as Soobin’s confusion grows. “I saw your notebook,” he explains after finishing his first gulp. “On the first page. _From Beomgyu. For Soobin_. It was a gift, right?”

Soobin nods numbly, feels himself reddening. “Yeah. When did you take a peek?”

“Doesn’t matter. Who’s Beomgyu?”

“A boy from my high school,” he replies uneasily, scratching his neck.

Taehyun raises a brow at his reaction. “Did you guys date?”

Soobin isn’t really sure, actually. “Maybe?” he winces. “I don’t know.”

Taehyun gives him a look of acknowledgement. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Because. It’s complicated.”

“Mmhm. Okay then.”

Taehyun is still looking at him through his mug. There is a quiet nudge, an offer in his eyes. Soobin sighs and slumps back against the chair, wiping his face in frustration.

“I took him to the graduation party,” Soobin admits shamefully. It’s been eating away at him, so it feels like relief when it’s finally out of his mouth. “It wasn’t him I wanted to go with.”

“Then why did you?”

Soobin stares at the dangling light. “I was trying to get over someone.”

“Oh,” Taehyun pauses. “That’s.”

“Yeah,” Soobin agrees. He still feels terrible about it. “I know.”

“Is this _someone_ still in the picture?”

 _He never was_. “He’s in LA,” he says.

“Oh,” Taehyun pauses again, having the third clarity in the span of two minutes.

“It’s complicated,” he hates the word, but there’s nothing else that could fill in what it was like. “I wanted to go but I didn’t get in. _He_ did.”

“Why were you trying to get over him?”

“Are,” Soobin corrects, flinches when Taehyun gives him another look. “He doesn’t like me like that.”

It still stings to think about, especially when it’s out in the open. He has never talked about it with anyone. Maybe that’s why it’s spilling over like this, because it’s been kept inside for so long. Taehyun also doesn’t know him in high school, doesn’t know about Yeonjun and Beomgyu and the mess Soobin left behind. His cluelessness helps him open up.

“That might not be true. It could just be in your head.”

Soobin scoffs harshly. He wishes it was. “No,” he shakes his head. “He made sure that I knew that he doesn’t like me like that.”

“Shit,” Taehyun curses, and Soobin laughs. “That sucks.”

“Yeah, well,” Soobin shrugs. “He’s in LA. I’m trying to use that as an advantage.”

“Yeah?”

“It should be easier to get over him like this,” he explains. Taehyun’s coffee is already half empty. “I don’t see him all the time. It should be easy.”

Taehyun nods in agreement. “Sure.”

In reality, Soobin gives in again. He gives in until he’s back to square one. He wonders if he ever made any progress. How does he measure it? How does he measure how much of Yeonjun he’s forgetting? In reality it’s not easy, and Soobin gives in because Yeonjun puts an alarm everyday to call him, and whatever progress he’s made, it’s overflowing again.

Yeonjun calls him on ten at night, Soobin answers, and they talk like he never left. Yeonjun always sounds so nice. His voice is always low, a little raspy, sounds like dusk.

“You look like shit,” Soobin always says. Yeonjun always laughs.

His dorm room is small, but Yeonjun makes do of it the best he can. “ _Here’s a tour of my bed,_ ” Yeonjun pans the camera the end of the bed. It only takes a second. “ _End of tour_.”

“Didn’t we promise to get you a bigger bed? It’s even smaller than your bed here.”

Yeonjun chuckles, zooming the camera on his face. “ _It wouldn’t stop us from cuddling_.”

 _If you were here_ , goes unsaid. Soobin doesn’t linger on it. “You would have to cling on me really close for us to fit in there,” he says fondly. Filling in spaces that were never for them.

“ _A win for me, then,”_ Yeonjun grins.

Soobin’s heart burns. He doesn’t know what to say to that. “When does your class start?” he asks, gulping it down.

“ _Mhmh,”_ Yeonjun’s forehead creases. “ _In a few hours, I think. It’s fine_.”

Soobin falls asleep when the night feels too heavy, and Yeonjun’s voice is like home. It becomes a new habit. A call at ten, a text good morning, and Soobin goes to class.

Time flies when he’s eighteen and life isn’t around the corner anymore. Time flies, and suddenly it’s his birthday too.

Yeonjun calls him on ten again. They talk until twelve finally comes, and Yeonjun kisses his camera all the way from LA, his lips coming in contact with Soobin’s screen. He blushes.

“ _Happy birthday,”_ Yeonjun says softly. His voice is tender, tender, tender.

Soobin smiles at him, burns a little inside. “Thank you.”

“ _You get two happy birthdays from me too,_ ” Yeonjun reminds him. “ _Go sleep now_. _It’s late_.”

Soobin stares at him silently. Yeonjun looks beautiful like this; morning light, morning eyes, morning smile. Yeonjun looks beautiful like this; still the brightest thing he’s ever seen.

It’s late. It’s dark out, but Yeonjun’s sunny still.

“Okay,” Soobin says, closing his eyes. He sleeps with Yeonjun in his mind.

Mom kisses him on the cheek in the morning, Dad hugs him and wishes him good luck for class, and Soobin goes to college happily. Taehyun buys him lunch.

When he thinks about it, so much has changed just within a year. He remembers this day exactly a year ago; Yeonjun’s warm hand, Yeonjun’s earth, Soobin’s telescope. So much has changed except one persistent thing.

Soobin still has a class later, so he’s waiting for it with Taehyun when Yeonjun calls him again. It’s exactly four in Seoul, exactly twelve in LA.

“ _Hey,_ ” Yeonjun’s face appears on the screen. “ _Happy birthday, birthday boy.”_

It’s strange to see Yeonjun in a dark room. He usually calls him when it’s morning in LA, but Yeonjun’s room is now draped, bedside lamp on.

“Thanks,” Soobin says fondly. Two happy birthdays as promised. “It’s late, you can sleep now,” he echoes back what Yeonjun said last night.

Yeonjun smiles smugly. “ _No,_ ” he whispers quietly, then the camera slowly pans to another body on the edge of Yeonjun’s bed. It’s a boy; one he’s heard a lot before. “ _I have company_.”

“Oh,” Soobin’s mouth dries. “He’s staying over?”

“ _Yeah, we’re watching a movie_ ,” Yeonjun looks somewhere above the screen, silly giggles like daggers. “ _Erik, say hi to my best friend_ ,” he says in English.

The camera pans again, and Erik looks straight to Soobin. He’s handsome; sharp features, nice eyebrows, thin lips. He’s handsome even in the dark.

“ _Hi, Daniel’s best friend,_ ” he says.

Yeonjun nudges him. “ _His name is Soobin_.”

“ _Hi, Soobin. I heard it’s your birthday. Happy birthday, bro_ ,” he says again.

Soobin stares blankly as Erik waits for his response. “Yeah, thanks,” he says dryly.

Yeonjun switches back to Korean, as if nothing happened. “ _You still have class?_ ”

Soobin nods through the fog of his mind. He’s stuck in place, feet plunged on the floor, heart shoved to the sharp bow of his rib cage. It’s Yeonjun’s eighteen birthday party all over again; except there’s no beer, just Yeonjun’s starstruck eyes and Erik’s body in his new smaller bed.

“I need to go,” he lies. “Class is starting.”

“ _Oh,”_ Yeonjun frowns, like he’s disappointed. Soobin doesn’t believe him. “ _I was hoping we could talk more._ ”

“I need to go,” he lies again, harsher. Yeonjun didn’t have to shove it into his face. Yeonjun didn’t have to remind him again and again that he doesn’t want him back. “Hope you have fun.”

Soobin ends the call before Yeonjun could even say anything else.

Taehyun stares at him in confusion, but Soobin shakes his head dismissively. He ignores the pang in his chest and goes to class, and then he’s at the bus stop again. Taehyun doesn’t ask him what happened, but hugs him once and wishes him another _happy birthday_ before they go their seperate ways.

Despite everything, Soobin waits until ten. He stares as his phone until his eyes water, but a minute passes, then an hour, then it’s past midnight and Yeonjun hasn’t said anything. Soobin falls asleep waiting for him.

This is what he gets in the morning:

**junie**

_oh my god soobin im so so so sorry_

_i stayed up so late with erik the alarm didn’t wake me up_

_binnie im so sorry if u waited for the call :(_

_i’ll make it up for you don’t worry i’ll wake up at four or something tomorrow_

_oh and good morning btw im so sorry again :(_

So he lies again:

**me**

_it’s fine_

_i fell asleep anyway_

He lies again at ten when Yeonjun calls him, but Soobin stares at his phone silently until it goes away. He lies again when Yeonjun asks him in the morning.

The question: _you didn’t answer my call. were you asleep?_

The lie: _yeah sorry i’m very tired these days_

It’s not really a lie. He _is_ tired. He’s tired of being stuck in a goose chase, but Yeonjun looks him in the eyes and tells him he was never apart of it anyway.

Soobin avoids it. He tries to avoid it. But like an open wound, it doesn’t stop nagging. Eventually, Yeonjun calls him at ass o’clock in the morning in LA, and Soobin can’t say no to that. What excuse could he even come up with? It touches his heart that Yeonjun is willingly sacrificing his sleep to talk to Soobin. He doesn’t do it a lot, and most of their calls aren’t that long, but it’s enough, it’s _more_ than enough to fill that void in Soobin’s heart.

It’s obviously not the same as having him here, but Yeonjun is really trying his best to fill him in with everything. He tells him everything about his day. He sends him a photo of his breakfast, his shampoo bottle, even the schedule of his classes so Soobin knows when he’ll be available to talk to. Yeonjun is still everywhere; despite being thousands of kilometers way, and Soobin isn’t getting over him. Not at all.

Yeonjun keeps calling, Soobin keeps loving, and in the end, he never gets peace.

Then one day, Yeonjun isn’t single anymore, and Soobin doesn’t react to it.

Erik asks Yeonjun to be his boyfriend on the twentieth of December. Yeonjun sends him a picture of them both; it’s a simple selfie, the phone held by Yeonjun, and they’re snuggled close together.

“You’re more handsome than Erik,” Taehyun tells him when he shows him the picture.

Soobin scoffs, zooming in on the selfie again until it pixelates. “Obviously,” he says bitterly.

“Stop being pathetic,” Taehyun nudges him with a book, rolling his eyes. Soobin knows it doesn’t come from an ugly place, he’s trying to help too, in his own way. “Let’s do this assignment first.”

“Fine,” Soobin says, and drowns himself in more work.

Yeonjun’s calls become inconsistent because life is inconsistent, and he can’t always wake up in the morning for him. Life gets in the way, more stuff he needs to deal with, and suddenly the newfound habit breaks again. Yeonjun doesn’t call him at ten anymore. He calls him when he can; sporadically, messy, out of the blue.

He calls him during lunch break one day, and he does the math in his head again. It’s around eight at night in LA.

“ _Hey, I’m taking a break from studying_ ,” Yeonjun says. “ _Just want to wish you a nice lunch.”_

Soobin’s heart leaps a little inside. Silently, like it always is. “Okay, thanks,” he says, staring at the rice on his table. Taehyun looks at him funny. “Don’t push yourself too hard.”

Yeonjun’s laugh shoots close. It’s with him again, in this mundane moment, Yeonjun’s with him again. “ _I won’t, Binnie,”_ he promises. “ _I’ll let you get back to it then. Bye.”_

“Bye.”

But there’s something left, and it lingers for a moment before it finally shatters: “ _Love you, Binnie_.”

Soobin pretends he doesn’t mean it like that: “I love you too, Junie,” and it’s a lie all over again.

Yeonjun calls him at ten while Soobin’s doing his assignment. Erik stays in the back like a shadow, peering up at the screen whenever Yeonjun drags him into the conversation too. Soobin doesn’t ask him why Erik’s already there in his room so early in the morning.

Soobin doesn’t hate Erik. He’s infuriatingly handsome. He’s funny too; all white teeth, crisp laugh, blue eyes. Soobin doesn’t hate Erik. He hates that he’s everything he’s not. But he doesn’t hate him.

“ _Bye,”_ Yeonjun always says.

“Bye,” Soobin always says. They disentangle again, two different realities, and the haze starts and repeats.

*

“I can’t believe he kissed you and told you to pretend it never happened,” Taehyun scowls from the other side of the table, flipping to the next page of the book on his hand. “That’s so shitty.”

Soobin leans back against the chair, wiping his face tiredly. It’s too early for this. “It was a year ago, let’s not dwell on that,” he says nonchalantly, as if he hasn’t been doing just that. “He doesn’t feel the same way, big deal.”

“But he kissed you,” Taehyun repeats, emphasizing. “ _He_ kissed _you_. Not the other way around.”

“Yeah,” Soobin nods, then shakes his head, because it shouldn’t matter. “He was drunk, though.”

Taehyun gives him a look, disbelieving. “He still kissed you.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Soobin forces it out, the lump on his chest heavy. “He rejected me, that was it. End of story.”

Taehyun still looks skeptical. Soobin goes back to his book.

_*_

At New Year’s Eve, Taehyun picks Soobin up at his house.

This time, Soobin isn’t at the beach. He’s at an open hill.

This time of the year is always crowded, packed. It’s not really his thing, but the beach was always Yeonjun’s idea, and the hill was also Taehyun’s idea. It’s actually not too bad here. There are other parked cars beside them. It’s filled with loud music, estranged laughs, the telltale of fireworks.

Soobin has his legs propped up on the dashboard (with Taehyun’s permission), and Taehyun is leaning his head against the steering wheel. The car smells like fruit, fresh, something sugary.

It’s usually the smell of salt, strong and tangy. It’s usually the far horizon, sand on his feet.

This time, Soobin isn’t at the beach. He’s with Taehyun at an open hill, an hour left to a another new year.

“I hate this song,” Taehyun says sourly, then turns the volume down. He looks at Soobin. “What do you usually do on New Year?”

Soobin slumps back against his seat, sighing when the air conditioner hits his face. “I’ve always spent it with Yeonjun,” he says. “I don’t think we were ever without each other.”

“You guys are disgusting, you know that?”

Soobin laughs, slapping Taehyun on the arm. “It’s the first time I’m celebrating it without him.”

“I’m a better company though, right?” Taehyun raises a brow at him with a smug smile.

Soobin throws him a piece of lint from his sweater. Taehyun still ducks. “Sure,” he chuckles. “It’s weird not having him here. He’s always been like an extra limb. But now he’s in a different continent.”

Taehyun stares outside, eyes roaming the view. His eyes are still as sharp in the dim lights; hooded, msyterious. “Maybe it’s a good thing. You can’t be dependent to him all the time.”

Soobin closes his eyes. It’s much more muted here. The beach is always _loud._ The waves against the shore, the sounds of people screaming and giggling, the soft collision of feet and sand. The beach is always so alive; a great compliment to Yeonjun’s own vibrant fireworks.

This hill is more like Soobin. Everything is muted here in the car. If he tried hard enough, he could hear people outside, but it’s a whole different world in the passenger seat. He listens to the gentle taps of Taehyun’s finger on the steering wheel, the hushed gush of the air conditioner, then his own diluted heartbeats thrumming on his temple.

It’s muted, dull, shimmered. It’s _easy_. Soundless.

“What about you?” he asks. “What do you usually do on New Year?”

Taehyun smiles a little. “Family gatherings, usually,” he says. “We eat dinner together then spend the rest of the night on the balcony, staring at the sky.”

“That sounds really nice.”

“It is,” Taehyun nods. “We haven’t done it in awhile, though.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know. Old habits die, maybe. Everyone just wants to sleep it off for the last couple years.”

Soobin chuckles. Mom and Dad don’t really care about New Year either. They always stay in. “Yeah, well. Some habits are stuck with you for a long time,” he mutters, pondering. “Some habits leave.”

Taehyun laughs at him but nods anyway, agreeing with him. It’s a free laugh, erupting in the center of his chest. “Who knew you were full of wisdom?”

“Shut up,” Soobin smacks him again.

Yeonjun hasn’t woken up yet, hasn’t texted him at all today. Soobin wonders if he would take Erik to the beach too, like they used to. He wonders if Yeonjun thinks about him as the night vanishes and a new year sets in.

They’re countries apart, but Soobin misses him even more than that. He misses him more than the space between them; more than nine thousand kilometers, more than sixteen hours. He misses him in numbers. Misses him in ticking clock. Misses him in months, and years, and seconds. They’re a distance away in whatever measurement, and Soobin misses him infinitely more than that.

Sometimes he thinks about the worlds he’s been missing out on. There are little worlds inside of his singular earth. The beach is one he’s intimately familiar with. He knows the sand by heart, recognizes the sky in its shifting colors, can tell which waves would break the most before they even meet the land.

The school is another world, but it’s smaller, narrow, unbreathable. It’s caged by short ceilings, stacked railings, stairwells that seem endless. Time works strangely here.

Yeonjun’s room is vast, limitless. It’s where everything happens. A magical room with a magical boy. It’s Soobin’s safe place, his shelter. Even when it doesn’t exist anymore.

His favorite world comes in the form of long legs dangling by a small bed only made for one. It’s vivid eyes, vivid smile, vividly bright tinted mouth. It’s fever on his lips. Redness on his cheeks, warmth like no other.

Soobin unlocks his phone, stares at the clock until it burns.

“Thirty minutes left,” he says hoarsely. “Let’s get out.”

This hill is a world he’s never seen before. Open, bigger space. The horizon wider than he’s ever witnessed. Compare to this, the beach seems small, miniscule. Insignificant.

Soobin leans back against the hood of the car. Taehyun is beside him.

The air is different here. It’s colder, windy. Everything else is smaller too. The trees. The clouds. Even the birds. They look like an ornament.

He’s never seen this before. He went through nineteen years without this. Soobin has always spent New Year’s Eve with Yeonjun. Most of the time they’re at the beach, sometimes at Soobin’s porch, but Yeonjun has always been here with him.

Right now, he’s not at the beach. He’s seeing a different horizon. There’s no sand on his ankles, no salt water on his skin. This hill is a new world for Soobin. Something he’s been missing out on.

“It’s pretty up here,” he says, and Yeonjun’s absence still feels like a wound.

Taehyun smiles at him, crossing his arms as he cranes his neck up to the sky. The fireworks are setting off, loud explosions beside the moon. It’s different seeing them from here. They’re still as beautiful, but more up close. More enduring.

But Yeonjun’s not here with him. The world crumbles.

“Taehyun,” he says.

Taehyun stares at the sky with wide eyes. “Yeah?”

“I’m not over him,” he admits quietly. It becomes a secret when more fireworks erupt. Radiant colors against dark sky, and it’s never an unfamiliar sight. “I’m not getting over him.”

Taehyun looks like dripping painting, gold on his eyes, orange on his cheeks. He opens his mouth but then closes it again, something like an understanding in his gaze. He contemplates it for a second before pressing close to him like a silent reassurance. Soobin appreciates the gesture, knows that it’s more than enough. He knocks their shoulders together as the sky drowns in more light.

(Yeonjun texts him _happy new year, binnie_ at four in the morning. Soobin doesn’t reply until the new year finally sets in LA too.

 _happy new year, junie_ , he says. They don’t share resolutions).

*

Yeonjun breaks up with Erik in the middle of March after the new semester starts.

He tells him one day, fleetingly and randomly, like he’s just telling him about the weather. _The sparks are gone_ , he says. _Nothing happened, we just didn’t feel it anymore_. He doesn’t sound too sad. He doesn’t sound sad at all, actually.

“ _What are you doing today?_ ” then the conversation shifts, and they move on.

There’s a new name after that - Jack. He has blond hair, crooked teeth, eyes that sting. Soobin likes him less.

Jack lasts even shorter than Erik. They date until the end of May. Yeonjun is the one who breaks it off again, and he still doesn’t sound as sad.

Another _“what are you doing today?”_ , then the conversation shifts, and Yeonjun moves on. Soobin is the only one stuck.

He still dreams about his open field. He wakes up feeling like a failure all over again as he stares at his nineteen year old ceiling. It chokes him apart and he longs for it again, but he gets up and goes to class because he has to. In the bus, against the window, he wonders if this is what it’s supposed to feel like, being nineteen. If it’s constantly being unsure and empty, hollow in the gaps of his lungs.

He wonders if all dreams hurt. All of Soobin’s dreams hurt. Maybe that’s what he needs to learn. Maybe that’s the point. Maybe everything is supposed to hurt when he’s nineteen, and his dreams are supposed to collapse before they even begin.

There’s no Erik and Jack in the background anymore. It’s just the both of them again, against the night and against the morning, and Soobin play pretends that nothing’s changed. But everything’s changed, and LA is somewhere he can’t ever reach.

“ _I’m thinking of travelling for the break,_ ” Yeonjun says, muffled by the pillow. It’s Sunday morning in Seoul, Saturday evening in LA. There’s sunlight on his face again. There’s sunlight in Soobin’s room too. “ _By myself._ ”

“Where are you going?”

“ _I don’t know, Disneyland maybe,_ ” Yeonjun laughs. “ _Anywhere, I guess. Haven’t really had the chance to see more of this place.”_

Soobin remembers that Yeonjun wanted to see it with Soobin before. The world. He wonders if he still wants the same thing now that he’s alone. “Why would you go to Disneyland by yourself?”

“ _It’ll be fun,_ ” Yeonjun counters, arching a brow.

The air is caging in his room. Soobin stares at Yeonjun as it sinks in again, over and over, that he’s not there with Yeonjun. A new world that he hasn’t seen. An open field, yet Soobin’s still stuck with the same sky.

“Tell me all about it when you’re there,” Soobin says, guiltily shoving away his jealousy. He forces a smile though, because he’s happy for him, _he is_. “I want to know.”

“ _Of course, Binnie,”_ he says. “ _You’ll be the first to know_.”

This is Soobin’s favorite time to call. They don’t feel so apart like this. It’s still light for the both of them, and it feels like for once they’re in the same world again.

“Do you like it there?”

Yeonjun doesn’t say anything for a moment. He stares quietly, nine thousand kilometers away. “ _Sure_ ,” he nods. “ _It’s nice here, Binnie._ ”

“You still have a small bed, though.”

“ _Yeah, I don’t like that_ ,” he chuckles. “ _But other than that, it’s fine_.”

“Okay,” he says.

There’s a heavy pause after that. It’s unsaid again, everything else. “Do you miss home?” and maybe that’s what Soobin wants to know the most.

Yeonjun smiles sadly at the camera and sinks deeper into his pillow. There’s always something there, in the crease of his forehead, in his glaring hesitation.

“ _I miss you,_ ” Yeonjun whispers.

Soobin’s heart skips a beat. “You didn’t answer my question.”

“ _I miss Korean food,”_ he oddly brushes past it. Soobin didn’t get a chance to react. _“God, I hate the food here. It’s boring.”_

“I can imagine.”

Time flies. Time flies when you’re nineteen and life has begun a year ago. Or it should have. It should have, but Soobin is waiting and waiting, and waiting for things he has never even touched.

College is pressuring, but Soobin tries. He tries his best to thrive.

He wonders if everything could slow down, just a little bit, so Soobin could catch up. Sometimes it feels like he’s living in his own. When he sits at the bus, he stares at everyone and realizes that it’s been almost a year since Yeonjun left. He wonders if he could ever catch up with it. He is still a six year old boy. He is still a seventeen year old boy. He is still an eighteen year old boy.

Simultaneously, he is nineteen, but he’s also not.

Simultaneously, he’s at the bus stop, counting pebbles, waiting for it to rain. Simultaneously, he’s at a balcony with a boy that he loves, but the boy left, once, twice.

Soobin looks at his ceiling and misses Yeonjun’s. His bed is bigger but it doesn’t feel like his. He wants to know if Yeonjun felt this way too. If he ever felt homesick, if he ever ached for their spaceship.

The answers comes one day when Soobin goes out of the shower.

His phone rings loudly on his drawer, making cluttering noise as it vibrates on the wood. Soobin stares confusedly at it when Yeonjun’s called ID appears on the screen.

Soobin does the math again, it’s three in the morning in LA. He quickly answers the call as panic starts to rise. Yeonjun never calls him at this hour.

“Hey, Junie,” he says.

“ _Binnie,”_ his breath is harsh against the speaker. “ _Are you there_?”

His voice is unusually small, fragile. Then softly, he starts sniffling.

Soobin immediately alerts, dropping the wet towel on the ground. He can’t be too bothered when Yeonjun’s voice chokes, and it explodes in a sob.

“Hey, hey,” Soobin sits himself down on the edge of the bed, gripping the mattress worriedly. “I’m here. I’m here, Junie. Are you okay? What happened?”

The silence is almost deafening as he waits. Yeonjun’s moving again, soft ruffling and shifting. There’s a heavy, heavy pause before it comes out in a weak whisper: “ _Binnie.”_

It’s just his name, but Soobin’s heart fractures at how brittle it sounds. It’s unlike Yeonjun, unlike his usual infectious cheeriness. It sounds like how he did in his bed that one night when he told him he had been worrying a lot.

“Yeah,” Soobin breathes, frustrated that he can’t do anything else except pressing the phone harder to his ear, as if it could make them closer. “I’m here, Junie.”

“ _I’m sorry, I’m just - I can’t sleep_.”

“Are you already in bed?”

“ _Yeah_.”

“Okay. Do you want to talk about it?”

Yeonjun’s voice is muffled, like he’s holding it in, the broken cries in his chest. “ _It’s seven where you are, isn’t it,_ ” he says faintly.

Soobin nods, it’s only been an hour since the night starts. “Yeah. Yeah, it is.”

 _“I’m just thinking about,”_ Yeonjun takes a deep breath. “ _How the sky is dark in Seoul, too.”_

“Okay.”

“ _We’re living the same day right now,”_ he chuckles, sniffling again. “ _I’m almost where you are. I’m almost there with you.”_

Soobin lies himself on the bed, feeling his wet hair seeping on the sheets. He stares out the window, chest tightening, as it dawns on him that it’s the same sky above Yeonjun too. “I can’t see the stars tonight.”

“ _I can’t either,_ ” a soft giggle out of his mouth, free.

Soobin understands. There’s only a small window where they exist in the same day; Yeonjun’s earliest morning after midnight, and Soobin’s earliest night after sunset. It’s always Soobin a day ahead from him, Yeonjun a day behind, but right now they’re not in a chase anymore.

They’re still sixteen hours apart, but there’s a mundane relief in knowing that they’re finally in the same reality again. He thinks maybe Yeonjun misses him too, like this, when he craves for the simplest pleasure of existing in the same day.

Maybe that ache should be dulled by now. That ache in a bus stop. That ache when Yeonjun pulled him in. Maybe that ache should never last longer than a sip of beer.

“ _Binnie, talk to me.”_

Soobin aches for Yeonjun when he opens his mouth, and his skin flutters like it did when the moon was out. “Do you remember when we went to that haunted house?”

“ _Yeah, you didn’t let go of my hand the entire time_.”

“You didn’t either,” Soobin laughs, closing his eyes at the memory. “I think I screamed bloody murder.”

Yeonjun lets out a chuckle, low but bright. “ _You were never good with surprises.”_

“Yeah, but I’m good at playing pretend,” Soobin says slowly and lets the darkness swallow him. He’s not in his bed, he’s not alone, he isn’t in love with his best friend. “We had the most fun when we played pretend.”

 _“No one could play a right hand man better than you_.”

“You used to make up the names of the planets,” he remembers Yeonjun with his little hands and his little eyes, how it was a much simpler time. “You were always so imaginative. You couldn’t accept that earth was the only habitable planet, so you made up a bunch of other worlds for us to live in.”

Yeonjun doesn’t say anything, but Soobin listens to his calmer breaths. He’s not crying anymore, simply soft sniffles that are already fading out.

“You told me you wanted to move somewhere else. The earth is nice, you said, but there are too many people,” Soobin breathes, and Yeonjun is beside him again. Between his closed eyelids and an alive phone call, Yeonjun is beside him again.

“ _I just wanted you around. Fuck everyone else.”_

Soobin laughs, and it hurts when it vibrates through his body. It hurts as he feels it in his hands, and they open up reflexively to another pair of hands that aren’t here anymore.

“ _Let’s play pretend again,”_ Yeonjun whispers.

“Let’s pretend you’re on your way to Earth,” Soobin says, heart splitting in two. “And I’m waiting for you.”

“ _Will you?”_ Yeonjun’s voice is small again, hesitant. “ _Will you wait for me?_ ”

He doesn’t think about it, because he never has. “I’ll wait for you.”

“ _Okay,_ ” Yeonjun sighs, and it’s long and relieved. “ _Okay, good_.”

For a moment, no one speaks. Soobin lets the silence bring him away, and suddenly they’re not apart anymore. They’re in a familiar spaceship, and Yeonjun’s here with him.

Soobin listens to Yeonjun’s muted morning, eerily quiet. It’s almost like he’s fallen asleep, but Soobin still has one thing to ask: “Do you still want to be an astronaut?”

Yeonjun’s voice comes again like the sun. It’s lighter now, easier. “ _Aren’t we in space right now?_ ”

And that’s answer enough, and Soobin thinks Yeonjun misses him just as much.

*

Slowly, it heals.

Soobin doesn’t feel as empty anymore. The route to college is monotone, boring, but maybe the familiarity of it is supposed to be a home. Maybe that’s what Soobin needs to learn to do; that sometimes it’s okay to be in the same place, and there’s nothing wrong with enjoying the same sight out of the window.

Seoul isn’t a cage. None of this is.

He realizes this when it becomes a new habit, staring at the city and the distracting buzz of the people. It becomes a habit to stare at everyone and knowing that there’s a shared pain in being alive, and maybe that should be more of a comfort than a burden.

And it’s heavy in more days than none, it’s heavy when Soobin’s feet are plunged on the ground and it feels like nothing’s slowing down. It’s heavy when he needs to remind himself that the world spins and gravity tilts, and no matter how much he wants to stay in the moment, he _can’t_.

There’s something theraupatic in watching the world move. The never-ending cars, never-ending laughs, never-ending high buildings, the set aside sidewalks. There’s something catchartic in knowing that everything moves around him, and even though he feels like he’s stuck, he’s _not_. He’s moving too. It doesn’t feel like he is, but everyday in the bus is a step forward, and everyday with Taehyun is a step forward, and everyday with the same sky is _still_ a step forward.

So slowly, he heals.

College is stuffocating, just like school, and the crowds are still terrifying, but Soobin learns how to breathe. He stutters during a presentation in front of the class, and his voice quivers when he raises his hand and there’s a delayed question in the tip of his tongue, but slowly, it all becomes a habit, and Soobin learns.

And like a habit, he heals.

Then suddenly it’s summer break.

Soobin spends most of it hanging out with Taehyun. He drives the car and brings Soobin everywhere. They go to the hill again when it’s not as crowded as New Year, and this time Soobin stares at the sky without feeling too sad for himself. It still feels like a different world here, in this open hill, because Soobin has never given it a chance.

Maybe that’s what life is supposed to be; constantly finding new worlds to exist in his small reality. Maybe Soobin is supposed to find it everywhere; in the constant warmth of Taehyun beside him, and even in smaller things too, like the roof of his bus stop and the soft corner of his class. Maybe these worlds aren’t meant to be grand; they’re just meant to feel safe.

Yeonjun ends up going to Disneyland alone. Soobin’s favorite photo is of him squinting at the camera, against the sun, an ice cream cone on his hand. He looks bright like this. Almost painfully too beautiful.

He also moves to an off-campus dorm and updates him on everything. He even puts him on video call when it happens, and it’s full of screams and bumping on things. Not bothering to clean everything up first, he lies on the bed and smiles at Soobin, and it feels like he’s there with him too.

(The bed is still small)

Soobin tells him about the open hill and how it’s stunning to see up close. He sends him pictures of his and Taehyun’s adventure: the tree, the sky, close-up photo of Taehyun against the evening, even blurred birds flying high. Yeonjun says it looks like Soobin is having fun. And he is. _He is._ It’s freeing to finally admit that.

When the semester starts again, Soobin feels better and anew.

He doesn’t make a big deal out of Yeonjun’s birthday. He doesn’t think about the two-year kiss when the call gets picked up, and Yeonjun’s voice is still the center of everything.

“Happy birthday, Junie,” he says at midnight, a repeat. Yeonjun puts an alarm for him again.

Yeonjun laughs softly, still the same hue. “ _That’s one. I’ll be waiting for two_.”

He gives him his second _happy birthday_ at four, and Yeonjun plants another kiss on his screen. It’s a blur when his lips come in contact with his camera, but Soobin sees it for what it is.

It is just a kiss. It was just a kiss.

“ _Thank you,_ ” he says, his smile blinding amidst the night. “ _Now I can sleep peacefully.”_

“Good night,” Soobin aches.

Yeonjun gives him one last kiss, innocent. “ _Good night_.”

And that’s it. Still not monumental. Still not special in any way. Soobin moves on, Yeonjun moves on, and life moves on too.

There’s another name after this - Peter. He looks different than the other ones. He’s way calmer, eyes softer, round cheeks with a kind smile. He looks much more shy too, only slightly peeking when Yeonjun calls him and he’s around. Soobin likes him best than the rest. Yeonjun sends him pictures of them and Soobin doesn’t feel sick.

Something always nags though, and he asks him one day: “Do you still talk to Kai?”

It seems like such a faraway memory. The graduation party. Yeonjun leaning in, the split second when Soobin looks away. It’s not that long ago, yet it’s still out of reach.

“ _No,_ ” Yeonjun shakes his head. “ _We never stayed in touch_.”

Soobin nods, and Yeonjun starts talking about Peter again. He’s been right all along then. First loves aren’t supposed to last. Kai was Yeonjun’s, and he’s gushing about another boy.

 _You’re supposed to get over it_. Yeonjun is over his.

*

On Soobin’s birthday, the phone call reeks of alcohol.

Yeonjun slurs his name when the line begins, and that’s how Soobin knows.

He gets his first _happy birthday_ late because Yeonjun sleeps through the day and wakes up on the evening. A short call as Yeonjun is running, the wind harsh against the speaker, and Soobin is still bleary with sleep. Just a simple “ _Happy birthday, Binnie, I’m sorry I’m late. You’ll get number two later, I’m on my way to class right now. Bye._ ”. Soobin stares at his screen long enough until his heartbeat slows down.

As he gets older, his birthday doesn’t feel special anymore. He doesn’t remember when it starts becoming just another day. Just another tick of the clock. Just another time of day. It feels hollow when he gets two of it every year that he questions what it really means. Like a routine, Mom and Dad greet him in the morning, Soobin goes to college and meets Taehyun. He hugs him again like the last time. He treats him lunch and coffee when classes are finished. Soobin hasn’t told him he doesn’t like coffee.

He’s in the bus when Yeonjun calls him again. His head is on the window, his hands on his lap. It’s a few minutes past midnight in LA. He’s late twice.

“ _Binnie,”_ he whispers, the end of his name dragged out. “ _Binnie, hi. Happy birthday_.”

“Hey, thanks,” Soobin whispers back distractedly because he’s in public. “I’m on my way home.”

Yeonjun sighs as it stretches to a long whine. “ _Binnie, why can’t you be here,”_ he says quietly like a secret. His voice sounds different, distant, achingly honest. “ _It sucks without you here.”_

Soobin stares at the darkening sky, something uneasy curling in his stomach. There’s a crack in his voice, a broken tint to it that means something’s wrong. “Junie, are you in your room?”

_“Yeah.”_

“Are you drunk?”

“ _Yeah_.”

“Are you okay?”

Yeonjun laughs, a sharp sound on the evening’s light. It sounds misplaced. “ _Binnie, I miss you,”_ he slurs again, whining, a huff as the line gets ruffled by him moving. “ _I miss you so much.”_

“I miss you too, Junie,” Soobin says, heaving a breath as relief washes over him. He doesn’t realize how much of a weight it is until he utters it out loud. “More than you know.”

The other line is a silent for a moment. Soobin waits until there’s sound again.

“ _I’m so - tired, Binnie. It’s lonely here. I have so many friends but I feel utterly alone. It sucks when I wake up and it sucks when I sleep. Everything fucking sucks. I know it’s supposed to be a dream or whatever, but I just miss home.”_

Soobin doesn’t say anything, leaning back against his chair until it sinks in. Yeonjun’s been really collected ever since he left. It’s always him smiling in front of the camera. Always a smile for Soobin, always his infectious laughs against Soobin’s ten o’clock. This is the first time Soobin realizes it might have been a front all along.

Before Soobin can answer, Yeonjun rambles again. It’s out of breath, like he’s drowning.

“ _Peter’s great. God, he’s so nice. He smells nice, too. He has a nice smile. Nice hands. He’s great, I swear,”_ Yeonjun chuckles faintly, more to himself than anything else. Dejectful, full of pity. “ _I just keep wishing that I like him too, you know_. _I look at him and I wish that I felt it. Whatever it is I’m supposed to feel._ ”

Yeonjun sighs, softer. “ _He looks like you sometimes. He has dimples too. When he smiles, there’s always this... shine to it. He’s just inherently kind. I hate how much he looks like you.”_

Soobin bites his lip. “He doesn’t look anything like me.”

 _“Yes, he does_ ,” Yeonjun’s laugh crashes into tiny breaths. “ _He really does. Sometimes I touch his dimples and I wish they were yours instead. I miss you so much everything feels like you_.”

“Even him?”

“ _Especially him,_ ” Yeonjun says. “ _Especially him, Binnie_.”

Soobin closes his eyes, the day’s exhaustion wiring his entire body. He thinks he’s too tired to really listen, or maybe Yeonjun’s intoxication is rubbing off on him too. He can’t bear thinking about it for too long.

“ _I love you_ ,” he whispers, but the words break apart.

Soobin’s heart clenches silently. He still pretends he doesn’t mean it like that, still a time-consuming lie. “I love you too, Junie.”

“ _No, no, no,”_ Yeonjun whines petulantly. “ _I love you_ ,” he repeats, as if Soobin didn’t hear it the first time.

“I know,” Soobin says softly, wishing more than anything to be there with him. He misses Yeonjun’s pitch black room. Their tangled legs. “I know you do.”

_“You know?”_

“Yeah,” Soobin nods, pursing his lips. Heartbroken all over again. “I’m your best friend. Of course you love me.”

“ _Oh,_ ” Yeonjun says.

“It’s late. Are you tired?”

“ _Yeah.”_

“Do you have enough water?”

“ _Yeah_.”

“Sleep it off then,” Soobin says. “I hope you don’t feel too sick tomorrow.”

“ _Yeah, sure_.”

“I’m here if you want to talk,” he goes on, worried. “I’m always here for you.”

“ _I know. Thanks, Binnie_.”

“Of course,” he says. “Do you want me to talk to you? So you can sleep?”

“ _Please_.”

Soobin tells him about his day, about the color of the sky, about the cafe Taehyun likes. He whispers as quiet as possible because there are people around, but he ends up closing his eyes and revel in it because even in the silence, he knows Yeonjun’s here with him. And he thinks, maybe, this can be Soobin’s new world, both of them connected by a frail phone call. It’s dark here, like Yeonjun’s pitch black room, but it doesn’t have to be looming.

He talks until Yeonjun’s breathing slows down and Soobin ends the call before the bus even stops.

The next day, when Yeonjun calls him again, he says he’s sporting a terrible headache. It reminds him of the morning after his birthday party when Yeonjun felt awful and had been throwing up the whole night.

“ _Ugh, my head hurts so bad,_ ” he wipes his face with his hand tiredly. “ _Did I say anything embarrassing last night?_ ”

“You don’t remember?”

“ _No,_ ” Yeonjun shakes his head, sighing. “ _God, why am I such a terrible drunk? I’m sorry if I caught you at a terrible time.”_

“You didn’t.”

Soobin doesn’t tell him about his honest rant. He keeps it in mind, though.

(Yeonjun breaks up with Peter after that. Soobin doesn’t ask him why. Still doesn’t sound sad, still like a weather report. Soobin doesn’t wonder for too long)

Then, it’s not an open wound. It’s a scar.

Time doesn’t get any kinder, but Soobin makes do with it. They’re now both twenty year old boys living in different space, and Soobin makes do with it. That’s always been the case - Yeonjun was always going to go away, and Soobin was always going to stay. His telescope and his Earth.

He spends New Year’s Eve at home with Taehyun. They grill meat and watch the fireworks in his back porch. He doesn’t make a big deal out of it too, it’s just a new year. A new year isn’t supposed to hurt, even though it moves faster than he ever wanted. He tries not to think about it, because Taehyun’s here and it becomes a special day.

It’s nice because Taehyun’s laughing with him, and he’s grateful to not be alone at New Year. It’s warm here, Taehyun’s overglowed by the explosions, and his stomach is happy and full. Seeing the sky like this, it reminds him of how much things have changed.

It’s still the same sky, but he’s not the same boy. He’s stil under the same sky, but he’s not the same boy he was two years ago.

Soobin is twenty, the year passes by, and it’s not supposed to hurt him.

*

Before the start of the next summer break, Yeonjun calls him with something shrill in his voice.

“ _I bought you a ticket,_ ” he says, unannounced, to Soobin’s sleepy, tired eyes. Yeonjun is smiling so wide it must hurt, jumping up and down like a litle kid in front of Soobin’s tiny screen. “ _Binnie, I bought you a ticket_.”

Soobin mumbles, confused. “What? What ticket?”

It’s a slow Sunday, Soobin has just woken up for a full minute. The sun is harsh against his face, so Soobin toes at the curtains to yield the light.

“ _There’s this big art exhibition coming up,”_ Yeonjun explains excitedly, white teeth on display. Soobin opens his eyes a little bit more. “ _Like, really big. Everyone’s really anticipating it, everyone’s pairing up too. So I got you a ticket!”_

“What,” Soobin says numbly. His brain is still fried, heavy sleep clinging tight around his head. He hears what Yeonjun is saying, but can’t really process what he means. “Junie, what are you talking about.”

“ _I got you a ticket to the exhibition,”_ Yeonjun repeats, widening his eyes. “ _As my date_.”

That jolts Soobin’s conciousness immediately. He gets up as the sheets tangled haphazardly around his body. Blinking at him, his eyebrows furrow confusedly together. “Am I not a continent away from you?”

Yeonjun’s eyes shine brightly. “ _Yeah, that’s why I got you another ticket too! I booked you a flight!”_

Soobin’s heart drops in disbelief. “You didn’t.”

Yeonjun shakes his head enthusiastically, laughing at the screen. “ _I did! I did! Soobin, I’m going to meet you soon!”_

“No,” Soobin knocks his head back to the headboard, feeling his lungs expanding. “Tell me you’re joking.”

“ _I’m not!”_ he shakes his head again, happy giggles bloom deep inside of his chest. He looks infectious like this that Soobin can’t help but smile too, his cheeks strained. “ _I’m really not! Binnie, I’m going! To meet you! Soon!”_

“Oh my god,” Soobin says breathlessly as it sinks in. “Oh my god, what the hell, Junie. You can’t drop that when I just woke up. Do you want me to get a heart attack?”

Yeonjun’s face meets the screen as he plants a wet kiss on the camera. “ _Binnie, I’m going to meet you soon,_ ” he doesn’t move his phone back, so Soobin only sees his nose and the slightest peek of his cupid bow, but it makes his heart ache beyond repair. “ _Binnie! I can hug you again!”_

Soobin stares silently until Yeonjun is in view again, and there’s his smile, and his voice, and everything comes crashing down in the morning light. He’s helpless, defenseless. Desperately in love still.

“Oh my god,” he says again as he drops down to the pillow, chest tightening in euphoria. He stares until Yeonjun becomes unreal and untangible. “Oh my god, I’m going to meet you?”

It’s a question because he still can’t believe it, but Yeonjun smiles so genuinely it breaks down his skepticism. “ _Yes! Binnie, I miss you so much you don’t stand a chance when I meet you. I’m going to hug you so hard.”_

Soobin laughs, ringing, his head still in a gooey haze. “Prove it.”

“ _Oh, I will,_ ” Yeonjun giggles at him, overwhelmingly beautiful. “ _I will show you how much I miss you_.”

“Okay,” he breathes. It’s unsaid how much he misses him even more than that.

The rest of the day thrums into a messy blur of Yeonjun, and Soobin dreams about the oceans draining, the earth folding, the skies splitting apart, all for him. All so Soobin can meet his love again.

*

Taehyun helps him pack, folding his clothes neatly inside his suitcase. He doesn’t say anything, but Soobin knows he’s thinking about something, so he nudges his shoulder.

“Spill it out,” he says.

“How do you feel?”

“I’m,” he pauses, feeling that excitement blooming in tiny sparks under his skin again. It’s that feeling of anticipation before a test, before the car turns right to the beach, it’s that exact ecstatic burn when he’s been waiting, and waiting, and waiting, and this is the declaration of how it’d turn out. “I’m nervous.”

“You _look_ nervous.”

“I am, god, I’m so nervous.”

“Why?”

“I haven’t seen him in two years,” Soobin explains, sighing. He can’t believe it’s been that long. “I just. I don’t know what I’ll do when I see him again.”

_Would he feel the same? Would everything stay in place?_

Taehyun side-eyes him thoughtfully, scrunching his lips. “You know what I think?”

“What?”

“Yeonjun doesn’t treat you like a best friend.”

Soobin tilts his head, perplexed. “What do you mean?”

“Who the fuck buys a flight thousand kilometers away for their best friend just to be their _date_?” Taehyun asks him with wide eyes, conviction thick in his voice. “It doesn’t add up.”

“What are you saying?”

“Would you book me a flight just so I can accompany you on some exhibition?”

Soobin focuses himself on folding the clothes, ignoring the distracting hammering of his heart. He thinks about it for a moment. Truthfully, no. It would be more of a hassle. He’d just ask someone else.

“No,” he says quietly, shaking his head. “I still don’t understand your point.”

“I can’t understand him,” Taehyun huffs, tidying the clothes already inside the suitcase to the edge so more stuff can fit in. “He treats you like this, but he rejected you. What does he want, then?”

“This is just how we are,” Soobin denies, shrugging. He has spent the last two years putting down the fire, never letting himself hope for more. He won’t do it again. “That’s how it’s always been anyway. It’s just who he is.”

“It still doesn’t make sense,” Taehyun insists.

Soobin stares at the zipper of the suitcase just for the sake of it. He doesn’t really know what to say. “Maybe he just wants to see me again,” he says.

“That’s the point. No one else would do that. He’s in LA, _Soobin_. You’re in Seoul.”

“Yeah, so?”

“So,” Taehyun says, impatient. “This isn’t what best friends do.”

He doesn’t answer him. This conversation ignites something deep inside of him, something terrifyingly hopeful. He did that once. He let himself _wish_ for Yeonjun, but that didn’t end well.

He just - he can’t believe that. He can’t afford to believe that, somehow, Yeonjun wants him back too. Or that it’s been the case all along.

Yeonjun didn’t want him back. He still doesn’t.

“I’m excited though,” Soobin says, stirring the conversation away. It’s giving him a headache, what this implies. He doesn’t want to think about it, he hasn’t for two years. “I’m excited to see how it’s like there.”

Taehyun doesn’t point it out, simply nods and continues folding the clothes. “I hope you have fun,” he says. “Send me lots of pictures.”

Soobin smiles, stomach knotting uncomfortably. “Of course.”

*

The night before the flight, Yeonjun calls him just to say:

“ _Good night. See you later.”_

Soobin stares at his smile and smiles too. “Okay, Junie.”

For a moment, it’s silence. But it’s not dreadful like their last farewell, and it’s not unspoken like their last days home. Right now it’s brimming bright. Full of rush.

He’ll see that smile soon. They won’t be seperated by a screen anymore.

“ _Bye,_ ” Yeonjun says, smiling wider.

Soobin says, but he doesn’t look away. He never has. “Bye,” but they’ll meet again.

*

And here’s how he meets the sun.

He holds on to his telescope the entirety of his flight. He holds on to it when he goes out. The shiny, soft surface against his palm, the dangling part of the chain on his skin like a grounding thing. He puts it inside of his pocket when his feet reach the airport’s floor, and the moment’s ticking but not terrifying like the last time.

Everything’s buzzing. Soobin feels sick, excitement and anticipation bubbling inside of him until it feels like he can’t breathe. He walks, slowly, watching everyone around him wearing an identical exhaustion on their face from the long flight. His body is incredibly strained too, but he can’t be bothered thinking about it when it’s Yeonjun at the end of the line.

It’s the same thing two years ago, he’s seen this before. The high ceilings, tall windows, a never-ending maze. He’s seen this unfolding, people meeting and parting, and now it’s Soobin calming himself down, seconds away from finally seeing him again.

There’s always been a glaring absence in Yeonjun’s place. He got used to it in the last two years. He got used to not being with him everyday, but being used to something isn’t the same as being okay with it. He was used to it, sure, but missing him was all he did.

The crowd thins the longer he walks, and he spots something on the horizon.

Yeonjun is waiting for him outside of the gate. He’s still blinding, the only hued light among everyone else. It feels like a dream when Soobin finally sees him, just a distance apart - one, two, three, fifty steps away. It feels like a dream when Yeonjun’s eyes widen when he finally sees him too.

Fourty-nine, fourty five.

And he starts running. Yeonjun is laughing, he can see it clear, and he’s running faster than he ever did. Soobin feels the laugh shake his entire body, and he starts running too, his grip on the suitcase stone cold.

Thirty-three, twenty-eight.

Soobin feels like he’s been running forever, his feet tired but relentless.

Nineteen, ten. Five.

Yeonjun leaps into him, his happy giggles ringing, an echo to it that spins Soobin’s world high. Just a breath away. Just one more -

 _Yeonjun_ , and three, and two, and

one.

There’s a body on his; real and tangible. It’s real as he closes his eyes tight and puts his head on the crook of his neck, and the smell of Yeonjun’s baby powder is strong and familiar. It’s tangible when he lets go of the suitcase and it’s Yeonjun he’s holding instead, and it’s his back, and his shoulder blades, and the sides of his body that feel like a cliffside.

Yeonjun crashes into him like an earthquake, his whole weight on him until he almost topple over. Yeonjun crashes into him bruisingly - arms around him like a fort, bright laughs on him like something he’s been craving.

Soobin doesn’t dare open his eyes, scared of letting the moment go, so he lets himself feel him like this, the way he always did in his room where he couldn’t see him but feel his presence, and it was always safe and right.

He drags his hands until Yeonjun becomes a solid thing, feeling the lowest row of his ribs under his fingertips. It’s something eternal when this is how he feels Yeonjun breathe - against him, against his own lungs, and Yeonjun shakes and breaks. It’s eternal when Yeonjun’s hair are on his like a constellation and he’s the most loved boy he’s ever known.

Yeonjun pulls away, warm hands on his cheeks, forehead knocking his. Soobin trembles against him, but Yeonjun holds him softly. He chuckles, overwhelmingly bright. “Hey, Binnie.”

Soobin feels him. He feels him. He feels every bumps of his bones, even the tip of his nose.

Sharp nails on his jaw, and Soobin laughs until it’s gone. “Hey, Junie,” he says.

When he finally opens his eyes, he meets the sun in his most wonderful light.

Yeonjun is so close. He’s so close, just a breath away. He used to be nine thousand kilometers away and Soobin used to wish for longer arms, but he’s _here_ and he doesn’t have to stretch his hands to reach where he is anymore. Yeonjun’s here, under his easy palms, and there’s a smile in his palpable lips.

“Binnie,” Yeonjun whispers quietly, shivering. He doesn’t know why he says his name like that. “I missed you.”

 _I missed you,_ Soobin says. _I miss you too_.

“Of course you did,” he chuckles to the air between them, feeling weightless. In this moment, all of his pain are gone. Seeping away through his skin where it touches him. “I’m very easy to miss.”

“Brat,” Yeonjun laughs. His elbows on his shoulders, fingers on his scalp between the strands of his hair. It’s a scene he knows too well. “Am I not easy to miss too?”

There’s always the same birthday party lingering on the back of his head, and right now the bumpy music is getting louder, impossibly distracting. There’s the moon again, watching. Stilled.

Soobin is seventeen again.

“No,” he shakes his head, laughs when Yeonjun contronts his face to something sour. Fondly, he takes a stray hair from Yeonjun’s face and tucks it behind his ear, feeling him go lax when he touches the skin there. There’s a delayed breath against his ribs. “Didn’t even feel like you left at all.”

Yeonjun laughs it off, a freeing thing off his chest. He ruffles his hair until it’s messy and rough. “Go back to Seoul, you’re annoying,” he says jokingly. “I think there’s another flight soon.”

“I thought you missed me,” Soobin says as Yeonjun finally lets go of him and takes his suitcase. They start walking in the hot LA sky. “I remember you saying you will prove it to me.”

“I changed my mind,” Yeonjun huffs, pouting his lips into a beak. “You don’t miss me back.”

Soobin fishes for his telescope in his pocket, holding it dearly on his open palm. He glances at him. “No, I miss you too,” he says sincerely, because there’s only so many things he could hide. “Look, I bring you with me to the flight.”

Yeonjun knocks their shoulders together, smiling fondly at him. “I left you at my dorm. Sorry.”

“See, now you’re the one being rude.”

Like a reflex, Yeonjun finds his hand. Knuckles on knuckles. Skin on skin - like the oldest story in the world. Soobin sighs in relief until there’s no more gap between them, and wraps his fingers around his like a vice.

Yeonjun doesn’t let go of his hand even when they get inside the taxi and they need to load his suicase in the back. He doesn’t let go of his hand when they cram inside and the taxi moves.

“Let’s get you something to eat,” Yeonjun says, his warmth unbearable.

“Okay,” Soobin says.

There’s something overwhelmingly surreal about feeling him like this again, after two years of touching the dark. Yeonjun plays with his hand like he always does, thumb on his skin, nails on the jut of his bones. It feels like a dream come true. A sharp jolt to it, a wake up call after being apart for so long.

He doesn’t want to think about anything else. He knows there’s an end to this. But he focuses on the way Yeonjun’s shirt bunches up against his, and breathes.

They eat lunch at a nice restaurant. Yeonjun still doesn’t let go of his hand when he orders, and only when they take a seat in a vacant table does he disentangle himself from him.

Soobin’s body is wearied. His neck is sore, there’s a slight sickness in his stomach, and he feels really drowsy despite almost spending the entire flight sleeping. He leans back against the chair though, and bear through it.

When the food comes, Yeonjun claps excitedly like a little kid.

They spend a couple hours there. Yeonjun against the evening light and Soobin staring quietly like it was his sight to see. It’s easy, everything is. It’s easy to talk to him, it’s easy to feel like they’ve never been apart. It’s to easy to believe that this singular moment is forever.

Because maybe, _maybe_ , that’s all Soobin wants.

Just a single, mundane moment to exist in eternities. A human moment in his most human desire captured for longer than a second.

Right now, as he looks at Yeonjun’s smiling face, he wants it burned to the back of his head. The way his teeth is plunged in the flesh of his bottom lip. How his honey eyes are slow and sweet when they’re looking at him bare.

He wants this moment forever. He thinks this has been his biggest fear. How, fundamentally, time never gives you a chance to cherish anything. It glides across like water, and when it’s gone, it’s gone in the stream. Impossible to get back.

Soobin didn’t kiss him back. He let that moment go when their lips met, and nothing else was ever that chaste. Nothing else was more daring than holding his breath, and then it slipped away. That once in a life time second - gone. Maybe that’s what it is. What this boils down to -

Yeonjun is a singular moment he can’t ever get back.

Maybe that’s his biggest fear. That he can’t ever catch up with anything. Not even Yeonjun.

Because two years is a long time. Two years is a long time waiting. Twenty years too. His life is full of these singular, full moments but they’re all _gone_.

Yeonjun’s smile falters, drops, and that’s gone too. He can’t hold on to it anymore.

“Come on, let’s go,” he says when they’re finished, and Soobin lets him drag him along however he wants.

They spend the rest of the day strolling around mindlessly. Yeonjun doesn’t let go of his hand; his grip tighter than before. He didn’t hold him like this in Seoul.

And it is a different sky, yet it has the same things like home. The familiar shine, the moving clouds. It’s the same thing back home - an aching palm, the same twenty year old boy.

Now that it’s here, he knows there’s nothing really grand about it. This is his open field with his two sun, and it’s still the same picture back home.

Maybe not all dreams are grand. Maybe Soobin’s dream wasn’t ever grand. It was just special because it was his. So, he makes a new one, right now, as Yeonjun holds him tender:

It’s an open field, and everything lasts. It doesn’t rain, the sun is forever. Yeonjun, too.

When the sky is a shade dimmer, Yeonjun brings him to his dorm. It’s a lot more crammed than he thought it would be, but it’s comfortable and homey. Yeonjun’s bed, as expected, is glued to the wall.

Obviously made for one.

He lets himself fall on the cushion, feeling the soft sheets. The muscles of his body are restless, pulled tight, and it immediately relaxes as it meets the bed. He sighs contently.

It’s different than Yeonjun’s room back home - it’s much more impersonal here. Lacking of Yeonjun, just here to accommodate. There are books on his table, dirty laundry on the floor, but that’s about it. Simple signs of someone living here, but not a lot much to it.

“You’re sleeping with me,” Yeonjun chuckles quietly, taking the spot next to him. There’s a delicate smile on his mouth. “I don’t take criticism.”

“This bed can barely fit me.”

Yeonjun laughs. “I don’t care,” he says, then slides himself under Soobin’s arm so they’re face to face, tangled like they used to be. Soobin is shoved to wall again. “See, it works just fine.”

He closes his eyes, laughing at the absurdity of it. Yeonjun’s head nudges hard at his collarbone, messy hair on his shirt. It’s uncomfortable, way too warm, but Yeonjun still presses close like he doesn’t mind.

“You miss me, don’t you,” Yeonjun says teasingly, reaching to squish his cheeks. “Come on, admit it. Say you miss me too.”

Soobin’s still laughing, something akin to happiness blooming softly in his chest. He shakes his head through the struggle, can’t speak clearly with Yeonjun’s hand on his face.

“Not a chance,” he manages to mumble, but Yeonjun mercilessly attacks him more.

“ _Yes,”_ Yeonjun insists, cupping his cheeks with both hands until his lips are scrunched. “Admit it!”

Soobin tries to pull back but he’s stuck because Yeonjun has always been strong than him, so he lets him do whatever he wants and simply surrenders.

“Say it, come on,” Yeonjun leans in and whispers in his ear, the heat of it tickles. “It’s a lot easier to admit than to struggle.”

He opens his left eye and takes a peek.

There’s an unreadable look in Yeonjun’s gaze, like he’s genuinely waiting for him to admit it - as if it wasn’t obvious enough, as if there was ever a world in which Soobin doesn’t miss him back.

He pushes through his strong grip and pulls himself up, just a little, until half of his body is in the air. He hitches his breath, looking down at Yeonjun who’s already looking up at him with a glazed look in his eyes.

“Yeah,” he says hoarsely. “I miss you. What are you going to do about it?”

His knee grazes Yeonjun’s hip, his splayed palm on the spot next to his ear, and Yeonjun lets the silence linger until it becomes heavy and thick.

When he braces himself to look at him - Yeonjun’s hair is a mess on the pillow, spread around him like stars. He’s so open like this, honest. Beauty in its purest form. That’s always been Yeonjun for him.

He rakes his eyes down, and Yeonjun’s lips are parted, like there’s something stuck between his teeth. Soobin wants to pull it out of him, make him say it, like he did in a birthday party when he was seventeen.

His hand shakes from his weight, and the moment’s gone when Yeonjun reaches up and tickles his stomach. Soobin drops himself down again and faces the wall, laughing involuntarily as he tries to ignore the prickles of Yeonjun’s deft fingers on his most ticklish place.

“Oh my god,” Soobin rushes out, trying to elbow him but Yeonjun is way too fast and agile. “ _Stop,_ I did what you told me to do! Why am I still suffering like this!”

“Because it took you _too long_ to admit that you miss me too! I was gone for _two years!_ I’m your _best friend_! How dare you deny the very fact that you’ve missed me all along! I’m rightfully offended!”

“Didn’t I tell you I miss you back in the airport? You just want to hear me say it again!”

“And so what if I do!”

“ _Junie_ , stop - ”

Soobin’s muscles are all strained from the tickling, his breath heaving, and with his last remaining strength, he turns around and hugs Yeonjun like a cage. He holds his wrist, pressing it to Yeonjun’s chest so he can’t move, and holds down his leg with his own.

“Shut up,” Soobin says in his ear, softer than he wanted.

Yeonjun doesn’t fight it. He immediately goes slack, no more tension in his body. Like this, they fit, and like this, Yeonjun becomes the small spoon. He finds his hand again. Skin on skin when they were seventeen.

The bed is for one. Filling in spaces that were never meant for them.

“No, you shut up,” Yeonjun retorts back, but it’s defenseless and weak.

Soobin closes his eyes, knocking his forehead on Yeonjun’s shoulder. He smells like baby powder. He smells sweet. He smells like what he’s been missing.

The flight was draining. His body is tired. Heavy. But this is his remedy - Yeonjun’s warmth on his, Yeonjun’s shirt on his, Yeonjun’s breath a serene thing.

It was worth it. It was worth the two years absence. It was worth crossing the ocean for.

“Shut up,” Soobin says once more. Yeonjun does, and presses back. He’s graspable again.

*

When he wakes up, it’s midnight.

Yeonjun’s not with him anymore - there’s no heat on his chest, his arms wrapped around nothing. He blearily opens his eyes. Through his grogginess, he wonders if he dreamed the whole thing.

But he’s not in his room.

Yeonjun’s face appears in front of him - blurred, a little hazed. He’s sitting on the floor by the bed, and Soobin reflexively reaches out for his shoulder.

“ _Hey_ , hey,” he whispers. “You fell asleep.”

Soobin hums, barely conscious to process anything. Slowly, he takes Yeonjun’s hand to confirm that this is real.

“What are you doing on the floor?” Soobin mumbles, closing his eyes again. Yeonjun’s warmth close is so close - everywhere at once.

“You must be really tired,” he says quietly, like a lullaby. With his other hand, he cups his cheek. “It was a long flight, wasn’t it, Binnie?”

“Mm,” Soobin nods dazedly, tugging Yeonjun up, but he only laughs.

“No, you big baby,” he says fondly. “You get the bed today. You came all the way for me, I can handle a night on the floor.”

Soobin’s head is a mush, but he still registers Yeonjun cradling his face. There are fingers between his hair, a soft carress on his left eyebrow.

“Binnie,” he whispers, thumb brushing his temple. “You look soft like this. Do you know?”

He can’t tell if his sleep-induced consciousness is imagining this whole thing. He’s too tired to note the difference, but Yeonjun’s voice is light, soothing. His touch is even lighter, like it exists in a dream. Unreal, almost.

But it’s there. His finger, against his skin. Soobin feels it.

“Good night, Binnie,” then there’s a kiss on Soobin’s eyelid. Barely there, but it makes itself known.

He falls asleep again.

*

“Hey, sleepyhead,” Yeonjun says with a toothbrush in his mouth when Soobin opens his eyes. “Let’s go to the movies.”

He lets Soobin sleep until the evening when the sky is purple tinted. When he wakes up, his body feels a lot better and less strained. There’s a bothersome knot in his neck, but Yeonjun kneads his hand carefully there until his stress is relieved and he can tilt his head comfortably.

Soobin takes a long shower to wear off his exhaustion. The steam is hot and relaxing, feels like heaven when the heat hits on places that ache the most. Yeonjun is standing in front of the mirror when he gets out.

“That was really nice,” he sighs contently. “I can’t believe you let me sleep for, like, twenty hours.”

“You looked really tired,” Yeonjun explains, leaning in closer to his reflection. Soobin watches. “You did that thing you always do.”

“What thing?”

“You know,” he shrugs absentmindedly. “When you’re really tired, you pout when you sleep. And there’s a deep, deep crease in your forehead.”

Soobin sits himself on the bed, staring silently as Yeonjun applies lipstick on his open mouth. He presses his finger on his bottom lip until the redness to it lingers on his skin. There’s something terribly mesmerizing about it.

Yeonjun turns his head to look at him. Smiling, that sugar. “Do you want some?”

He nods numbly, can’t really think. “Sure.”

When he gets close, he towers over him. Soobin looks up at him until the light from the ceiling surrounds Yeonjun, and there’s really nothing else to see.

Yeonjun’s lips are innocent. They’re not.

They pucker, pearl white teeth, Soobin’s worst nightmare. They’re pretty and plump - a whole other world Soobin’s only felt once.

“Open up,” he says, and Soobin does. Yeonjun tilts his head with one hand, then a finger brushes over his lip softly. It hovers like feather. Faint but jolting. He feels the touch to the back of his neck, down to his spine.

Yeonjun skims his finger all the way to the side of his mouth. Then it stops on the edge.

“There you go,” he says quietly. He doesn’t move.

Soobin keeps staring until his sight blurs a litttle. He stares at Yeonjun - like he always has, like he always wants to. He’s stuck in place as Yeonjun peers down at him through his half-lidded eyes. He can’t do anything except taking it in.

It’s disorienting because he hasn’t seen him like this in two years. He hasn’t seen that face in person for so long he forgets how breathtaking it is.

Yeonjun is a shadowy figure from this position. The light around him like it belongs.

This is what it feels like to look at the sun. You look too long and reality wraps around you. You look too long and everything becomes green on the edges and the world becomes less real.

This what it feels like to look at Yeonjun. He’s divine. Ethereal.

And when he looks too long, he falls in love.

“Thanks,” he croaks. Yeonjun smiles at him, but his finger stays for another moment. It’s weighed, a burden where it lingers. Such a warm touch, and Soobin thinks this is how he deals with it now.

To get over Choi Yeonjun, he needs to forget about his hands.

Because it’s hot on the back of his neck. It feels like a birthday party where he touches him like this too. A hard press of his finger where it shouldn’t hurt.

But it hurts. It hurts where it touches his lip, and he remembers when it wasn’t the case. Nothing is supposed to feel like this. Nothing is supposed to hurt like this.

Yeonjun levels his gaze back. “You’re welcome,” he whispers.

With one last smooth graze, he leaves. And like a farewell, Soobin blinks himself awake.

He thinks that, ideally, this would be how he would take Yeonjun on a date. Yeonjun loves watching movies, especially cheesy romantic ones. That’s what they’re watching today.

He doesn’t let go of his hand when they get on the bus. It’s unfamiliar, but Soobin gets to see what it feels like to be in Yeonjun’s shoes for the last two years.

It’s not that much different. It’s just a bus.

Yeonjun drags him inside the cinema, laughing as Soobin stares at the back of his head. He tiptoes a little on the desk, looking at the vacant seats on the screen. There are still a lot left. Yeonjun pays for two seats in the middle.

And Soobin thinks -

Everything about this feels like a date.

Yeonjun still doesn’t let go of his hand. He holds it close to him like he’s afraid of letting it go. And Soobin thinks about what Yeonjun said - how it’s lonely here, how _he_ feels alone. He wonders if this is his way of saying it. If this is what he means.

Because Yeonjun hasn’t stopped smiling. He has that infectious smile that lights up. An inherent glow to it that feels overwhelming.

 _You’re so happy_ , he says, nudging it with his fingertip. Yeonjun only smiles brighter. Bigger. _You’re so happy today._

When the studio finally opens, Yeonjun skips excitedly up the darkly-lit alleyway. Everyone starts rushing inside too. It’s muted here, everything is, but he listens to Yeonjun’s giggles and his cheery light steps.

“Man,” Yeonjun says as he sits down, dragging Soobin too. “I’ve missed watching movies with you.”

“The time zone never allows us to watch a full movie together,” he sighs quietly. They’ve tried before, but someone always ends up falling asleep not even halfway into it. They give it up altogether then.

“Binnie,” Yeonjun grins. “I’m so excited.”

“I know,” Soobin smiles at him, raising his brow. “Are you disappointed you can’t hug me like this?”

Yeonjun scrunches his face. “Aren’t _you_?”

Soobin smooths down the front of his shirt, shrugging. “I’m fine,” he says.

“You’re a _liar_.”

“No, you’ve just always been clingier than me.”

Yeonjun leans into his space, squinting. It would be convincing, a little threatening, if Yeonjun wasn’t still holding his hand. “Do you have a problem with that?”

Soobin laughs, feeling uncontrollably fond. “Get back to your seat,” he says.

Yeonjun does, because the lights are dimming, a sign that it’s starting soon. He tugs at him until their interlocked hands are resting on Yeonjun’s knee. Soobin lets him because it’s comfortably cold here, and Yeonjun’s warmth is a nice balance. It just feels good, right, and Soobin leans back to his chair to enjoy it.

The movie is light-hearted and fun. Soobin laughs a lot. Yeonjun leans to his space a lot during the movie, his head knocking his shoulder as he gets into the story. Soobin feels his free laugh resounds on his chest.

And this feels like a date too. How Yeonjun stays close to him, even with the seat’s arm being in the way. It should be uncomfortable, but Yeonjun doesn’t seem to mind it. He goes out of his way to make sure that a part of them is touching. Like a necessity.

And this feels like a date, because it doesn’t look like he realizes he’s doing it. It feels like a reflex instead. A soft brush of his thumb on the side of Soobin’s palm.

When the movie’s finished and the light comes on, Soobin shakes it off and doesn’t think about what it means. Even as Yeonjun drags him away again and his hand is still on his like an etched orbit.

“Come on,” Yeonjun jerks his hand, a wild expression on his face. “The night is still young, whatever. Let’s _go_.”

They look inside stores and Yeonjun tries out clothes. He peeks inside the dressing room when Soobin’s finished changing to the outfits he picks out. They’re not really doing anything, doesn’t end up buying any clothes they try - but Yeonjun looks electrified. His laughs are carefree, open. Soobin’s just happy he’s having fun.

Yeonjun buys him ice cream. There’s a parlour that still opens, one of his favorites. Soobin lets Yeonjun taste his. They talk while they walk - feels a lot like the walk back to the bus stop, when their uniforms were bunched up together, and the sun never burned as hot as their gliding skin.

Soobin closes his eyes on Yeonjun’s shoulder when they’re back on the bus. In his dorm, Yeonjun changes to his pajamas and Soobin wears his hoodie. The lights are off. Pitch black, the way Yeonjun likes it.

Yeonjun takes him to the bed until they’re face to face again. His bare feet tangling with his.

It’s the same picture back home, but Soobin misses it just the same. They’re not seventeen anymore.

“Hey,” Yeonjun says softly, brushing Soobin’s eyebrow with the softest bump of his fingernail. His voice is laced with concern. “Are you tired?”

Soobin closes his eyes involuntarily, his exhaustion seeping out immediately from his touch. He nods, the pillow’s getting heavier and comfier.

“Yeah,” he hums, heady of Yeonjun. He’s _everywhere_ \- a little too forceful. Soobin can’t get enough of it, yet he wants him to slow down too. “The flight sucks.”

Yeonjun coos. His fingers are on the back of his neck again, massaging the tension of his muscle. “Sorry, Binnie,” he whispers quietly. “I got really excited. I should’ve let you rest more.”

It’s soundproof here. He can’t really hear anything else except the sound of Yeonjun’s incessant hearbeat underneath his shirt. It’s like being in a fort. A spaceship where everything shuts down.

He shakes his head. “No, it was really fun,” he says, feeling Yeonjun’s huffs of breath on his face. “I’m glad you took me out.”

There’s something different about the way Yeonjun touches him now. It’s much more careless, but a lot lighter too. He doesn’t know what it is, can’t pinpoint exactly what’s changing.

Yeonjun must be leaning to him, because his warmth is suddenly closer. Impending.

He’s tracing the line of his jaw now, painfully slow. Soobin doesn’t understand why he’s touching him like this.

“Binnie,” he whispers softly. Tender, the way it’s placed on the tip of his tongue. “Do you want to know something?”

Soobin holds his breath. “What?”

Yeonjun chuckles, then cradles the side of his face with the palm of his hand. “I wish for you sometimes. Before I fall asleep. On a wishing star. At 11:11. I wish for you, Binnie.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know,” he replies idly, poking at his cheek. “I just can’t think of anything else.”

_Just pretend it never happened._

“Your wish came true, then,” Soobin says weakly. He melts into him. Reckless. “I’m here, aren’t I?”

Yeonjun travels up until his fingers drag across his scalp. If he closed his eyes hard enough, he could hear the obnoxious music again.

“What do you wish for?”

“I don’t make wishes.”

“If you did, what would you wish for?”

 _You,_ he says. _I’ve wished for you._

Soobin thinks about it. “I’d wish for you to come home faster.”

He chukles lowly, his hand pausing. “I thought you said it feels like I never left at all.”

Soobin presses close. With the lack of light, he can’t really tell where he is. If they’re just a breath away or still a sea apart. He still presses into him, just making sure, and sighs when his hand meets his back.

“Yeah, it’s not like I miss you or anything,” Soobin says, but comes closer until there’s no more distance between them. There was no getting used to it back then. He’s adapting again. Constantly creating and breaking down habits. He’s getting used to it once more.

Yeonjun pinches his shoulder. “Go sleep on the floor.”

“No.”

“You’re annoying.”

“Am I?” Soobin asks, hazy and comfortable.

“ _Yes._ ”

It’s always a mess. When they’re both on the same bed, and Soobin feels Yeonjun more than he could bear.

“Are _you_ tired?” Soobin asks to the air between them.

Yeonjun hums, nuzzling to him. “Not now, though.”

Soobin traces his finger up Yeonjun’s spine, feeling it retract and move. He’s memorizing it. Counting the seconds to reach the ends of his shoulder blades. Yeonjun doesn’t say anything, shivers quietly.

“You miss me, Junie?” he whispers. Yeonjun’s hand halts, his breath too. Soobin wants to see his face, wants to know what he’s thinking. There’s a pause after that, and he feels it in Yeonjun’s measured touch. There’s a dainty finger on his earlobe, pondering.

“Miss you the most,” he finally says, but it’s not calculated. “I miss you everyday.”

Soobin reaches clumsily for his face, his palm meeting Yeonjun’s cheek. He touches him tenderly, just pressing close until he becomes solid and feverish.

This is what he’s been waiting for. Hundreds of phone calls, reaching for the ceiling. Reaching for a place he couldn’t see. But - it’s here, even when it’s dark. He’s here.

“You’re stupid if you think I don’t miss you too,” Soobin says, overwhelmed. He doesn’t know what to do with this. Afraid of letting this go. “Everything’s different without you.”

“Really?”

“Of course it is,” he assures. There was no doubt in him to begin with.

Yeonjun holds on to his shoulders, breathing harshly. “I still can’t believe you’re here.”

Soobin laughs and holds him back, years of pent up longing out in the open. “I miss you too.”

It’s silence after that - but not overbearing. Not glaring. Jarring because it’s been two years of silence, but Yeonjun’s voice isn’t a faraway dream anymore.

“Night, Binnie,” Yeonjun says.

It’s within his hold. Lulling him to sleep again, like when he was seventeen.

“Night, Junie,” Soobin craves. Silently since he was seventeen.

*

The beach is Yeonjun’s idea.

Their trips are usually planned out - Yeonjun drives the car, Soobin prepares the meal. Weeks leading up to it where they eagerly talk about what they’re going to do when they arrive.

This time, though, it’s spontaneous.

It’s a nice morning to go out so Yeonjun brings him to different places. He takes him to eat breakfast first on a nice diner. Then he holds his hand to the route he goes to college. His old dorm. The park Erik takes him to their first date. The lamp post Peter kisses him good night.

When the sun’s at the highest and Yeonjun’s skin is sweaty and slippery, he grins wildly at him.

“Binnie,” he says mischievously, his voice young. “Let’s get lost together.”

“What?”

“Come _on_ ,” he giggles, then drags him away. “It’ll be fun!”

Which is how Soobin finds himself in the bus. Yeonjun leans on his shoulder as he leans on the window. He stares at the foreign streets, searching. It’s a dawning realization. Everything about it is a recognition.

He used to want this. He used to long for this - the new sky, the new side walks. The different faces. Different air. Maybe he still wants this. But seeing it up close, he knows it was never about the place.

Soobin just wanted to hold on to something.

For the longest time, LA was always something to reach. A destination. When it vanished, he didn’t really know what he was supposed to do. The last two years have been mostly empty because of that.

Mom was right, he thinks. There’s nothing wrong in choosing a different dream. There’s something brave about it, too. Seeking for another horizon when you’re the most familiar with the one in front of you.

Soobin doesn’t long for LA. His dreams aren’t supposed to hurt. This one doesn’t anymore.

Yeonjun’s head pokes his collarbone. His hand warm on his, interlaced. He watches the sun peeking, the sun touching, the sun beside him like a permanent thing.

It should be stupid, careless - everything about this. Yeonjun doesn’t bring much with him, Soobin only carries a backpack with _his_ own stuff. And yet it feels _so_ right.

The ride is only a few hours long. They walk for awhile to get to the beach, but Yeonjun keeps laughing against him that it feels like a short second. Time warps, stretches, folds when he’s with him. That’s always been the case.

“Oh my god,” Yeonjun gasps, not dropping his hand. Soobin’s shoes meet sand. “The last time we went to the beach was last year of high school.”

“That feels like ages ago,” Soobin squints at the harsh afternoon light. They start teetering closer, like a magnetic field. Yeonjun laughs and spreads his arms, dragging him along. The sand makes a scrunching noise. The waves break and crashes.

It’s scorching, Soobin already feels sweat trickling down his shirt, but he doesn’t mind it. Not when Yeonjun starts running and Soobin follows too. Their hands are sliding together uncomfortably yet it doesn’t matter.

The beach has always been pretty. Relaxing because it’s persistent. Unceasing, everlasting. You always expect the waves to come back. You know the water will always climb up the sand. No matter how long you look away, the ocean will always be there for you.

Soobin stands still where the water ends. Yeonjun lets go of his hand to twirl around happily.

“I’ve missed this,” Yeonjun lets out a relieved, delighted sigh. “I didn’t realize how much I’ve missed this.”

Soobin stares at him. Yeonjun has his eyes closed, arms spread wide open. The sun hits him perfectly - their lights equally bright. “I haven’t gone to the beach at all.”

Yeonjun stops and bumps into him, soft giggles like the approaching eve. “Me too. I’ve been waiting to go here with you.”

Soobin breathes, didn’t realize he was holding it. He didn’t take Erik or Jack or Peter here, then. It shouldn’t mean anything, but he gets dizzy nevertheless.

“Let’s get wet or something,” Yeonjun proposes out of the blue, eyes twinkling. “ _Binnie_.”

“No,” Soobin shakes his head, already resisting, but Yeonjun grips his hand and drags him away. He takes off his shoes while running. Soobin barely has the time to take his off before they drop with a soft sound in a safe distance.

His bare feet finally touches salt. Oozing bubbles on his ankles, cold.

Yeonjun is laughing, eyelids pressing hard on his cheeks, and he’s holding to Soobin’s shoulders as more water splash their feet. The end of Soobin’s jeans are already soaked.

He can’t help but laugh too as a wave rushes in and water splatters on his face. He winces and trips because Yeonjun tugs him unexpectedly and he falls on his ass, water bathing his shirt until it clings. Seeking revenge, he jerks their held hands until Yeonjun stumbles and drops on top of him.

“You’re _so_ fucking annoying, I swear - ” Yeonjun pushes his shoulders until Soobin’s back meets sand and he feels sea water on his entire body, even the small of his back. To the tip of his fingers too.

“ _You_ were the one who wanted to get wet, you jackass - ” Soobin feels elated, wants Yeonjun to taste his rightful vengeance. He brings himself up and shoves Yeonjun until his back knocks on sand too. He falls back readily, laughing so loud it feels like the beach isn’t an open space. The sound of it echoes and reverberates until everything else becomes plain.

“Oh my god, fuck off, why don’t you,” Yeonjun circles his hand on Soobin’s wrist but doesn’t tug. He just lets it hang there, their skin gliding wetly. “Go away, you’re blocking the view.”

Soobin stays in place, grinning as Yeonjun squints, his left eye half-closed. “Am I not the view?”

Yeonjun kicks his shin. “ _Go_ away!”

He drops himself next to him. It’s so _reckless_. Irresponsible, almost. Their clothes are soaked from the bottom to the top. They don’t bring any change of clothes. They didn’t prepare for a trip to the beach.

This is stupid.

This is _so_ stupid.

Even so, Soobin smiles mindlessly as another wave closes in, another prickle of cold on his back and his feet. Yeonjun’s grip is loose.

“How do the fuck do we get home after this?” Soobin laughs incredulously. “This is your fault.”

“What - ” Yeonjun whips his head at him. He opens his mouth disbelievingly, eyes wide. “It’s absolutely not!”

Soobin pushes him again, and Yeonjun giggles innocently at him. “You’re infuriating, you know that?”

“So why did you fly so far to meet me then, hm?” Yeonjun raises a brow at him, smug. “You can’t hide your affection for me even if you tried.”

He shakes his damp hair spitefully until the droplets splash on Yeonjun. “Sure,” he says, meeting his gaze back. “Didn’t you buy the ticket, though? You _begged_ me to come because you missed me that much.”

Yeonjun stammers at that, clamming his mouth tight when no words come out. “That - that’s unfair.”

“How?”

He flushes red. “It just is. Shut up.”

Feeling vindicated, he leans close even when Yeonjun is looking adamantly at the glaring sky, avoiding his stare. “You’re so fucking annoying,” he whispers.

Yeonjun grabs his face with both of his hands so abruptly that Soobin retreats back in surprise, his shoulders meeting sand again.

“Do that again and I _will_ kiss you,” he says gravely, eyes steady.

Soobin knows he’s just joking around - but the press of his fingers on his jaw feels real, not a ruse. Yeonjun stares at him with a lingering weight, a question dangling on the edge of Yeonjun’s sharp fingernail.

He doesn’t know why he’s looking at him like this.

Maybe, this is what he fears the most, too. This singular moment of Yeonjun weaved in illusion. Like he wants him back too, not another rejection. As if that world could ever exist.

In this never-ending second, Yeonjun looks at him like he always wants him too. What a privilege it would be to live in its eternities. Soobin relives it now. He’ll relive it again when it passes and it’s gone.

This - _this_ is play pretend.

This is play pretend as Soobin hitches a fearful breath and Yeonjun still unwavers. This is play pretend as his heart jolts and it’s another reminder of a moonlit balcony where the sun would rather be somewhere else.

_He doesn’t want him._

Never did.

Soobin holds his wrists, seperating them, a second too long, a shade too soft. He feels the joints of his fingers nudge the the knob of his wrists, somehow closer. Closer than they’ve ever been. Pained, because he can’t help it.

“Brat,” Soobin says, gulping it down. He shifts, elbows on the sand to support his weight. The sky is loud. The sea is stark blue. “What do you love the most about the beach?”

Yeonjun mirrors his position, bare feet moving. He scrunches his lips and thinks it over. “I like how noisy it is,” he answers. “It just never _stops_ , you know? Even if people stop coming here altogether, it would still be alive.”

“I get it. It’s a constant thing.”

“Yeah. Same thing everywhere, too. Even the beach back home sounds the same.”

“Looks the same.”

“Yeah,” Yeonjun exhales loudly. “Feels the same.”

Soobin sighs until it’s not his anymore. “You feel the same too,” he says.

“Like what?”

“Like this,” he says, feels the feeling bloom in his rib cage. “Like you’re a constant thing, too.”

Yeonjun laughs at that. His sand-coated fingers graze his. “I know what you mean. You feel the same to me.”

 _Best friend forever, right_?

Soobin laughs back at him, throwing sand on Yeonjun’s lap. He screams and drags his whole dirty palm along the line of Soobin’s arm. “Fuck off - ”

That’s how the afternoon goes. Their clothes dry the longer they wait it out, until the sun drops slowly down and the sky is dimmer. It’s comfortable silence between them. Everything else is fast-paced, overwhelming. The sound of people walking by, bare feet against sand. It’s all _noise._ Too much bliss.

But it slows down, just a little bit, in their little bubble of quietness. Soobin doesn’t say anything, and Yeonjun simply scoots closer until their pinkies touch on the sand. That’s enough, more than.

Yeonjun stands up first when the sun’s gone, wiping the sand off his pants. He dunks his hands to a wave that comes by until he’s sand-free. Soobin follows suit. They walk up after that, wearing their shoes again.

“Hey, stupid idea, but,” Yeonjun begins, forehead creasing. “What if we just, you know, _stayed_?”

Soobin pulls the end of the shoe to fit his foot inside. “What are you saying?”

“It’s dark,” he reasons. “Aren’t you tired?”

“Yeah, so?”

“Let’s just rent a hotel room or something,” he purses his lips, looking around. “That way, we can go back the first thing tomorrow. And we’ll see the beach again too.”

Soobin grips the strap of his backpack, staring at Yeonjun’s hopeful expression. “We don’t even have any change of clothes.”

“It’s just one night,” Yeonjun insists, raising a brow. “Come on.”

Soobin doesn’t have the chance to reply, because Yeonjun’s already lacing their fingers together. He stares at the way Yeonjun’s hand moves, transfixed at how easy it is. Focused on the way his palm folds against his. Twenty year old hands. Twenty year old heat.

“You’re,” he heaves a breath. It’s been a long day. “You’re unbelievable.”

Yeonjun smiles at him. Too genuine. “One of a kind.” Soobin doesn’t disagree.

They end up entering a hotel after a half an hour just walking. Yeonjun lets go of his hand to talk to the receptionist and rent a room. Soobin feels out of place, especially with his previously drenched clothes, still feeling the sand all over his arms and ankles. He’s a sore thumb here.

Yeonjun isn’t thinking about it though, because he simply smiles when he receives the card to the room. He holds Soobin’s hand again and drags him to the elevator.

The room has one double bed.

It’s spacious, is what he notices at first. Lavishingly nice, too. The breeze feels good, refreshing. The day’s exhaustion comes rushing in and cling to his body. He didn’t realize how much of a journey it has been.

Yeonjun takes a shower first, so Soobin spends the time by looking out the balcony. He sees the beach from here. The way the waves move, how it looks mystical under the night light. There’s something about it. Nostalgic. Regretful, unknowingly.

When Yeonjun goes out of the bathroom with his hair wet and clean, his cheeks rosily blushed, Soobin tries not too think too much about it.

The shower’s nice. The steam feels like a chance to breathe, for his body to cool down. He lets the stream hits the scalp like an eerie deja vu. Everything about this day makes him feel seventeen again.

He fell in love with Yeonjun when he was seventeen.

“I’m so _spent,_ ” Soobin groans as water trickles down his neck. “I can’t believe you meant it.”

Yeonjun has his feet sprawled on the edge of the bed, his feet on the floor. His back is aligned horizontally with the bed. “What?”

“When you said _let’s get lost_.”

He turns his head to look at him, chuckling when he sees Soobin’s bewildered expression. “You had fun, though. Right?”

Soobin nods, poking at Yeonjun’s arm for him to scoot over. Yeonjun moves completely until he’s in the midle with Soobin, cross-legged and starry eyes at him.

“Yeah,” he croaks quietly. There’s nothing different about this. “Did _you_ have fun?”

Yeonjun lies himself on the bed, leaning sideway, then tugs Soobin until he drops down too. It’s comfortable, the bed’s doing wonders to his worn out muscles.

“Yeah,” he hums, reaching out to run a hand through Soobin’s wet hair, pushing it back. “Tired?”

Soobin, without his own accord, shakes his head. He closes his eyes slightly until there’s a blurred shadow around Yeonjun’s face. “Not now,” he says quietly.

This is a big bed. Double the size of Yeonjun’s bed back home. Even the bed in his dorm room. This bed is _meant_ for two.

It’s enough space for the both of them, but Yeonjun still scoots closer. Still tangling his legs with his - feet on his ankles, sunny skin on his tender one.

Yeonjun isn’t supposed to be as close as this. He’s not supposed to look at him like this.

“Sleep?” he offers, smiling. There’s a split on his bottom lip. “We’ll see the beach again tomorrow.”

Soobin still aches for it - kissing him with a twenty year old mouth. Kissing him in a seventeen year old party that runs forever.

“But the room’s too nice,” he laughs. “You haven’t even turn off the lights.”

“Just say you’re too lazy to get up,” Yeonjun rolls his eyes but leaves anyway. Then the room is dark and endless, gaping. Soobin is struck with a brief moment of fear before the bed dips and Yeonjun fumbles for his hand. Their limbs intertwine again.

“Hey,” he says, so close. His voice echoes. “Imagine this, we’re on our spaceship off to somewhere far. The engine’s starting. There are so much places we could go.”

Soobin chokes. “You’re not leaving me on earth?”

“No,” Yeonjun chuckles against him, awfully soft. He slides a hand on his side and lets it rest on his back. “Of course not. You’re my right hand man. Remember?”

“Yeah.”

“So - imagine this. I look at you and I ask: _where do you want to go?_ What do you say?”

“I say,” Soobin rasps. “I want to be where you are.”

Yeonjun leans closer. Soobin feels his bony shoulder. His bruising rib cage. “You are where I am,” he whispers. It sounds small, like it used to in a phone call nine thousand kilometers away.

He closes his eyes. It doesn’t make any difference. The darkness is still aging. “I want to go to your made-up planet,” he says.

“Okay. You know that planet in _Interstellar_ that consists of _just_ water?”

“Yeah, terrifying.”

“Well, the one we’re going to is like that, except it’s just the beach. Everywhere you go, there’s sand. And there’s water. But nothing really ends. It stretches to every directions imaginable. When you instruct the sea to split, it will. And when you ask the sky to be kinder, it will. When you wish for the stars, or the moon, the planet will provide them for you.”

Soobin giggles, something heavy in his chest. “I don’t think that’s how planets work.”

“It’s _my_ planet. I do what I please.”

“Okay,” he says. “What else?”

Yeonjun hums, then stumbles forward until the tips of their nose brush. “Time works different here. It doesn’t exist.”

“How?”

“It just doesn’t exist.”

“How?”

“A second. Two week trip. Forever. None of that matters here.”

_Best friend forever, right?_

“No one waits, then,” Soobin croaks quietly. “No one has to wait.”

“No,” Yeonjun’s breath is warm on his face. They keep talking in codes. Yeonjun keeps touching him in a secret he doesn’t understand. They’re dancing around it. A waltz in an empty ballroom. He’s leading it - the waltz is almost mechanical. Soobin’s suit is made of paper. The collar of Yeonjun’s dress is scratchy and fake. “There’s no such thing as waiting here. It’s a forbidden word.”

Soobin’s singular moments are all gone. The trip to the beach is gone, passed. Yeonjun with sand on his shirt - gone down the drain. His life is full of waiting, and craving, then the moments disintegrate before he could cherish them.

Counting down, there are still two years left before Yeonjun could come home.

Two years of waiting. Two years more of waiting.

“What’s the name of the planet?”

Yeonjun draws a lasting sigh. He cradles his face once more. He has never touched him like this before. Never this fragile. Never with this much devotion.

“I’ll name it after you,” he says. “The planet’s for you anyway.”

Their engraved initials on Soobin’s telescope. That is what it feels like. That is what it feels like to bear Yeonjun’s touch in the dark.

“We’ll see the beach everyday,” Yeonjun goes on. Giggles shakily. “Until you’re bored of it.”

“Then I’ll have to see your annoying face everyday,” Soobin says, just as shaky.

Yeonjun pokes his skin. “What a lucky man you are,” he breathes.

If Soobin tried hard enough, he could listen to the beach. That faraway water. The old fireworks in an old sky. A fragment he can’t see anymore. But the boy is still the same boy.

“Yeah,” he agrees, a seventeen year old’s ache. “How lucky I am.”

*

The longer he stays, the longer he panics.

Just like the waves, the days come and go. Soobin feels like he’s running out of time again. The same way he did two years ago when Yeonjun left him for the first time.

He is running out of time. The next day bleeds to the next. The sun sinks and he follows.

Yeonjun brings him to Disneyland. Nothing about it is out of place. It’s nice and fun, even the rides are still thrilling. But the warmth of Yeonjun’s hand feels like a wake up call, and the louder he laughs, Soobin gets more terrified.

“You want ice cream?” Yeonjun offers, and Soobin nods.

It’s a serene night, but everything about it feels like a countdown. Nothing’s dragged out - the seconds tick a mile too fast, the scenery a tad too real. The sand in the hourglass drops and drops, and Soobin still feels the beach sticking to his ankles. The salt water on the small of his back, and he wishes for another day. Another chance.

“Mint?” Yeonjun raises a brow.

“No, fuck off,” Soobin smacks him on the arm, and Yeonjun laughs again. Disappears into the night.

The chattering in the background becomes muted as he stares at Yeonjun. The light is dim here, almost like a shadow, and it reflects on Yeonjun’s elated expression. His lips are shining.

Yeonjun licks his ice cream happily, smearing pasty green on the corner of his mouth. It’s a mundane thing. A human smile. A human sound. A human love as he glances at him and they lock gaze in a human second.

“Why are you staring at me?”

Soobin points at the ice cream smudged skin. “You’re making a mess.”

Yeonjun says thank you and carry on, but Soobin is stuck in place with his mind numb.

He won’t get that in Seoul. That little stare. That split second when they’re in a moment in time and Soobin can hold it in his grasp. He won’t get that in Seoul. He doesn’t have that in Seoul.

The night ends in Yeonjun’s smaller bed again as Soobin closes his eyes and Yeonjun leans forward, knocking their foreheads together. The air is thick again. No one’s cleaning the fog again.

Nothing about LA is graspable. Not even Yeonjun.

Soobin panics a lot more on the day of the exhibition.

He tries not to think about it, even as he listens patiently to Yeonjun’s stream of water from the shower. Even as he fixes the collar of his shirt and it feels more suffocating than it has to.

This is another scene he knows too well - Yeonjun going out of the shower, and he’s smiling like he’s seventeen. Untamed in the way it’s shown. It’s only for him to see, but Soobin knows there’s a limit to his want.

A scene he knows too well - Yeonjun leaning on the mirror, and he’s beautiful like he’s seventeen. The short gaze at his own reflection as he looks at Soobin then and they’re not in LA. It’s a graduation party. It’s a boy he didn’t bring.

“Come on,” Yeonjun holds his hand; locked but cold. Soobin isn’t graspable either.

The art exhibition is poised. Soft clatttering against glass, shoes against wood, that familiar smell of perfume and crisp air. It’s a big place. A big crowd, too. Yeonjun squeezes his hand as they walk through it. Soobin squeezes back.

It’s strange to think that this was the reason why he’s here. The last couple of days have just been an ornament, almost, and this is really the point of the trip. He wouldn’t be here without this grand, highly-anticipated art exhibition.

Yeonjun stays close to him. He looks content here. Soobin listens to him intently as he talks, staring idly at other people passing by - their polite laughs, interested gaze, important-looking face - as his voice becomes the center among the loud noise. Like it always is.

Soobin stares at Yeonjun most of the time. He stares at him as he looks at the artworks. He stares at him until he forgets that his time here is ending. He doesn’t think about how the reason is shedding and he doesn’t have to be here anymore.

This isn’t his dream. He needs to go home soon.

The gallery spins for a moment. It tilts as he shoves the panic inside of his ribs and he tries to remind himself that he still has tonight. It isn’t ending yet. It’s still here.

“Are you having fun?” Soobin asks as they turn to another part of the exhibition. Yeonjun nods and laughs, dragging him further inside to a wider expanse of artworks.

It’s actually nice. Relaxing to hear about Yeonjun talks and gushes about it. Soobin lets himself drown with the thril of the night - how this feels like a habit, somehow, even when it’s his first time, and the feel of Yeonjun in such a contained place.

Yeonjun looks really content here. He gleams at the artworks, and he takes his time to observe and take them in. He’s clearly having fun, but Soobin thinks about what he said on his birthday. About not being happy here. He wonders how long that smile will stay. He wonders if he’ll smile for the camera again when they’re back to being apart.

Despite being the reason why he’s here, the art exhibition is the most brief part of the trip.

They stay for quite some time, but the night closes in, and Yeonjun finally tugs him outside.

Yeonjun doesn’t say anything. He’s still smiling, but he closes his mouth. It makes him wonder if it was ever about the art exhibition. It makes him wonder if that was play pretend - Yeonjun’s version of it.

Because he doesn’t look sad leaving the gallery, and he hums at the sidewalk as his fingers wrap around his in a tighter grip. Because it seems like the exhibition wasn’t the best part of the night.

He smiles even brighter here. As the night sky looms and he presses close like uniforms on a past sunny day. He laughs louder as their shoes become an imprint on the ground. The space between their hands isn’t something to miss anymore.

Yeonjun shines. He always does, but this is an eternal glow. This is something that won’t get washed out. This is something that becomes a fabricated truth as the second’s gone.

The sound of the city is loud, deafening. People pass them by, knocking his shoulders, people talking in the background, a static noise, people smoking and running, all of them - so _alive_ , distantly cold. Nothing about it is intimate. They are pieces of a bigger picture but none of it is grounding. Moments that are meant to go. Moments that aren’t supposed to stay.

Yeonjun stops walking and faces him. He’s an axis here as the city moves. He’s the centre of this version of Soobin’s open field that has long wavered and shifted.

And he thinks, maybe, this is what it feels like to live in a singular moment.

Because Yeonjun’s looking at him with something he can’t understand. Yeonjun’s eyes are everything at once. His gaze is tender, like there’s no point in it. No reason to be tethered to Soobin, but it just _is._

Soobin doesn’t move. He takes it in - Yeonjun’s warmth, Yeonjun’s fictive love. He takes this moment in until it becomes like the rest. Until it eventually gets washed up too. Until it becomes another kiss that never gets addressed.

But it doesn’t go away. Yeonjun’s still looking at him wordlessly. It’s supposed to mean something - this trip, the beach, Yeonjun’s disparate touch. It’s supposed to mean something, but everything else is draped by

a moonlit balcony. Beer-coated mouth.

Eighteenth birthday party.

A night that never ends. Ceasing moment that he can’t ever get back.

It’s supposed to mean something, but he’s stuck in

a sunlit room. Soobin’s first, ceaseless rejection.

Yeonjun’s strangling silence. A boundless flight to LA.

Soobin looks at him back. It doesn’t end. Nothing ever ends. The thing about this love is that it never ends.

“Home?” Yeonjun asks. For the first time, the city’s louder. He simply nods.

There isn’t a home for him here, but Yeonjun holds his hand like there is. There isn’t a home for him here, but Yeonjun brushes his skin to his like the four walls are laid here in their colliding knuckles. There isn’t a home for him here, but Yeonjun brings him to the bus stop and everything inside of him breaks once again.

The walk to his dorm has become a habit. It’s a habit as Soobin counts the stairs and the breaths he takes. It’s a habit as he hears Yeonjun’s key jiggles, and the door opens. Then it’s a one-week room he’s known in a temporary forever.

“Hey,” Yeonjun says in a silky voice, his face flushed. He looks stunning, even against the harsh and ugly shadow of the ceiling’s light.

Soobin laughs, drowned again. Salt on his ankles. The waves rolling in. “Hey,” he says, then Yeonjun slides his body on him. Their ribs meet. Their feet are touching.

Like a scar, it opens again. A wound in the making.

“You,” he starts, his eyes turning small. He looks hysterical, almost, tiny hiccups on the base of his throat as he giggles. “are a dashing young man.”

“What are you talking about,” Soobin can’t help but chuckle too. Yeonjun has a wild expression in his face, like he’s drunk, mirth swimming in his gaze.

“That’s what I meant. You are handsome, you know that?” Yeonjun puts his hands on his neck, stings like the first time.

Soobin shakes his head, laughing again. Louder. The tips of his ears are hot. “I look like how I do every other day,” he says dismissively, embarrassed by the sudden compliment.

“Are you implying you don’t usually look good?”

Somone’s playing music. It’s subdued by the wall, the bumpy noise muffled against it. Yeonjun reflexively moves his head according to the beat, then his hands drop to his shoulders.

“I’m implying that you should stop saying things you don’t mean,” Soobin says, letting Yeonjun lead the dance in the middle of his room. His other hand is splayed on his hip, fingernail grating his shirt.

Yeonjun blinks once, twice. A simple look in his eyes. “I mean it,” he says quietly. “Of course I mean it.”

This is not new. This is how he’s always been, he’s touchy with wandering hands. He jokingly flirts with him, saying sweet things a best friend is supposed to say. This is how Yeonjun’s always been - his hand is familiar, his heat enduring, his body crashing on him airlessly. This is just who he is, but right now Soobin can’t bear to think straight.

“Binnie,” he says again. “You know how good you are, right?”

Soobin chokes up a little, a stifled sound out of his mouth. “You don’t say it a lot,” he says, heart burning.

Because he didn’t shine like Kai. He doesn’t shine like Erik or Peter or Jack. He’s not aflame like them. He never stood a chance with space.

“Do you want me to say it?” Yeonjun asks, but it’s careful. Deliberate, like he’s seeking for an answer too.

They’re not in LA. They’re at a graduation party with a boy that Soobin wanted more. They’re at a graduation party with a last dance he never got.

Yeonjun’s leading it, dancing the way he only knows how. There’s no finesse to it, just simple swaying and reckless shake of his body. He wonders if this is what Kai felt. If Peter’s heartbreak felt like this. Like this: Yeonjun’s steadfast gaze, but it’s hopeless. Like this: Yeonjun’s piercing skin, but it’s short-lived.

“Sure,” he manages to say. Unbearable.

“Look at you,” Yeonjun murmurs, his voice a bottomless pit. He tugs at his earlobe, then travels up and reaches his hair, ruffling the strands on his forehead softly. “You’re a - ”

“Yeah?”

“A mystery,” he laughs, eyes growing into crescents. “I never find the rights words to say about you.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re just,” he lets out a drawn out sigh. “Everything.”

Soobin doesn’t understand why he’s still looking at him like this. He’s not supposed to look at him like this. Not desperate like this. Not clinging to his skin like this.

“What are you saying, Junie?”

“I’m not saying anything,” Yeonjun deflects, a quick flash of worry in his eyes. “Just letting you know.”

“Know what?” Soobin digs in again. He’s too close. He’s in too deep already. Nothing else is ever going to hurt.

The music grinds into the wall until he feels it in Yeonjun’s room too. “You’re,” he goes on, then smiles widely. There’s a carelessness there. “You’re stupid.”

Soobin chuckles, still burning hot. He feels it everywhere. “So am I good or stupid?”

“Stupidly good,” Yeonjun says, gripping him tighter. His palms are open on his chest, familiar thumbs pressing close. There’s a curiosity there. “You’ve always been stupidly good, Binnie.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Remember when I didn’t win that drawing contest in fifth grade? I was so beat up about it. Adamant that I did better than everyone else. I still have it in my head - this specific memory, stuck in my brain. You didn’t tell me that I was better. Or that the school was at fault. You just sat by my side in my room. Then you told me to keep drawing.”

Soobin remembers. Remembers Yeonjun’s little hands wrapped around crayons. “You drew our neighbourhood, right?”

“Yeah,” Yeonjun nods, pursing his lips. “I drew your house. Then the three houses between. Then mine. We were on the ground. I drew your head too big, I think. I looked like I was two feet tall, too. Looking back, maybe I didn’t do as well as I thought.”

“I remember.”

“We were holding hands,” he says. “Even in the drawing, I was holding your hand.”

Yeonjun leans forward and rests his head on Soobin’s chest, arms circling around his neck. Soobin holds him. He holds him like this, palms on his back. Fingers on his spine again.

“Why did you draw us like that?”

There’s no pause after that. Yeonjun breathes against his shirt. “You know why.”

Soobin nods quietly. Their temples are dented together. “Because I’m your best friend,” he says.

“Yeah.”

_Best friend forever, right?_

The song changes into a ballad. It’s something you’d hear when it’s raining and your heart’s a little broken. Soobin wonders if they were ever this close - Yeonjun and Kai. If he’s felt him like this too.

“Do you think that,” Soobin ask thickly. “a first love is supposed to last?”

Yeonjun looks up at him, steps back just a little to meet his eyes. He’s searching. “Why?”

“Just curious.”

“I think you’re supposed to always feel it,” he says. “That’s how it lasts, you always feel it.”

“Is that how you feel about Kai?”

“Is that how you feel about Beomgyu?”

“Uh,” Soobin says, throat closing up. He doesn’t know what to say.

Yeonjun doesn’t say anything either. His eyes don’t left him, shining sadly. Soobin doesn’t understand anything.

“Soobin, I don’t feel anything for anyone,” he tells him. “Not him. Not _them_.”

“Okay,” Soobin’s heart is brimming, something painfully hopeful igniting inside. This is what he’s been afraid of. He can’t - he can’t handle another -

He’s looking at him, fleeting eyes hover on his face. There’s baby powder, and perfume, and the room’s heady smell. It’s everything at once - it’s LA, and Seoul, and the party’s beer and the party’s punch, and it’s the pebbles on the way home. There’s gravel, birthday cake, the sound of shoes on wet sand.

Yeonjun’s still looking at him. He’s looking at him like he wants him back. He’s looking at him like there’s hesitation in his parted mouth, but it’s _there_ , present and waiting. He doesn’t know how to deal with the way he’s touching him with this unfilled, eager must.

Soobin’s breath is stuck between his ribs. He can’t tell if he’s making this up, another illusion.

Yeonjun never wanted this - wanted him. In that balcony, he thought it was shared, but in reality he felt it alone. He can’t figure out what it is now.

“Binnie,” he says.

He doesn’t know what to do with it. His name in his lips. His name, breathless, folded on Yeonjun’s teeth.

“Binnie,” he says again, then his hands are on his cheeks. His touch is startling, rash, decision. His skin is a revelation. A confession on the way home. A sunny unveiling. “I -”

Soobin’s heart hammers the way it did in that balcony. His heart breaks, everything he’s kept inside cramming to the walls of his body. He can’t keep pretending -

“Junie,” he breathes in a rush. “Your eighteenth birthday party.”

He waits for it. He waits for it, ribs tightening again. He waits for him to say it.

_Yes, I kissed you. Yes, it wasn’t a dream. Yes, I wanted you too._

Yeonjun blinks, out of the trance. “What?”

Soobin’s lip quivers. “Your birthday party,” he repeats hurriedly. He needs to know. He needs to know _now_. He needs to know if Yeonjun would brush it aside for the second time -

He waits for it. If that kiss ever meant anything to him, he would -

Yeonjun giggles quietly, eyebrows furrowing on his forehead. “What?” he asks incredulously. Treats it like a joke again.

He closes his eyes until everything’s hot and his skin numbs. “I’m talking about -” Soobin heaves a breath, stammering as his words slur together incoherently, suddenly furious. “I’m talking about when you - when you - ”

Soobin stares at him, sight clouded with emotion. Same thing three years later. Still another rejection. “I don’t understand why you keep touching me like this,” his voice raises high, pent up frustration seeping out. “I’m just your best friend _,_ why do you touch me like this?”

Yeonjun winces in shock, hurt apparent in his face. His hands aren’t on his body anymore, they’re on the air - confused, halting. “You - you don’t? You don’t want me - to - ?”

“No,” Soobin cuts him off, harsher than intended. “I don’t want you to touch me, Yeonjun, not when you -”

 _don’t want me back. When you don’t feel the way I do_.

He sucks in a sharp breath, exhausted all the way down to his bones. Soobin’s feelings are always out in the open. He was the one with an unfinished question out of his mouth. He was the one who was told to pretend and -

Soobin doesn’t want to get his hopes up again. A second time is enough.

“You can’t keep treating me like this,” Soobin sighs, wiping his face weariedly, “Not when I’m just your best friend.”

He steps back until there’s distance. Yeonjun isn’t tangling with him anymore. They’re nine thousand kilometers away. “You can’t expect me to just take it, Yeonjun.”

He can’t keep baring his heart out only for Yeonjun to pry it away with his friendly-hungry smile.

Not when Yeonjun is deliberately avoiding the truth, and Soobin is still deliberately trying to get over him.

“Just,” Soobin bites his lip, tears already burning hot in his eyes. He’s _so_ tired. He doesn’t know how to handle - “Just stop. _Please_.”

Yeonjun freezes in place, mouth hanging open. His eyes are frantically searching him. “I’m sorry,” he inhales loudly, shoulders incredibly tense. “I’m sorry, I thought you didn’t mind,” he goes on, quieter this time.

Soobin nods brokenly, lips parted in an attempt to respond, but nothing comes.

They’ve always been like this - closer than most, their bodies aligned. Yeonjun’s always been like this - his hands wandering, his mouth always a solid thing near his skin. This is nothing new, but everything’s too out of line. Out of touch. Soobin’s the only one who catches feelings, who always wanted more from a kiss that was never supposed to linger.

How is he ever supposed to get over him if Yeonjun didn’t give him an enough distance to forget? How is he ever supposed to move on when Yeonjun’s lips aren’t far enough?

He’s stuck in place as he realizes that it’s out in the open now. There’s no going back from this.

Yeonjun still hasn’t said anything about the kiss. It’s resolved, then.

 _It never happened_.

“I’m very tired,” he says, laughing at nothing. He thumbs at the tear on the edge of his left eye. “Let’s just sleep, okay?”

Yeonjun nods again, glancing at the bed. “Okay.”

It’s awkward silence after that.

Soobin goes wordlessly to the bathroom to change and wash his face. He lets himself think until the anger wears down and his body is straining like the first day he arrived. His head hurts, his forehead throbs, and his hands shake where they’re pressed cold on the sink.

If he pretends hard enough, this night never happened, too.

If he pretends like he always has, this will be just another night. It wouldn’t be everlasting like the birthday party. It wouldn’t be something he needs to forget.

And that’s what he’s always been good at, isn’t it? He’s good at playing pretend.

“You want to use the bathroom?” Soobin asks when he’s out, and Yeonjun is already in his pajamas. He’s looking at him carefully, then affirms with a small _yes_. He passes him and closes the door. It makes a loud click.

The music is still playing. It’s not a sad song anymore. It’s bumpy. Familiarly so.

Soobin sits on the bed, fidgeting restlessly. This is a small bed. They don’t fit here.

Yeonjun appears again a few minutes after that, now make-up free and bare-faced. He’s not looking at him, but he nervously approaches the bed and sits on the other end.

He sighs, dragging his knees to his chest. “Yeonjun, what are you doing,” he says.

Yeonjun shrugs defeatedly. He looks impossibly small. “Do you want me to sleep on the floor?”

“Of course not.”

Soobin lies himself down until he’s horizontal. Feeling the cushion on his back. The wall on his side. This is where he’s always been. He stares at the ceiling.

Yeonjun slips next to him. The bed dips a little.

For the first time in twenty years, he realizes the gapingness between them. The lines they’ve crossed. The vague love Yeonjun has always bared to him.

Yeonjun suddenly moves nervously, then his voice erupts, calling him.

“Binnie.”

He’s always there to answer. “Yeonjun.”

“Are we - are we good?”

Soobin aches with it. Because it’s not Yeonjun’s fault. It’s not Yeonjun’s fault he’s in love with him.

It’s not Yeonjun’s fault that Soobin gets tangled up in the euphoria of this trip. It’s not Yeonjun’s fault that Soobin craves that drunken kiss like a lifeline, and he’s here again, at a pebbly road where his shoelaces tied together on a sunny day.

It’s not. It’s not his fault.

“Yeah, of course,” Soobin nods, heart on his throat. Their shirts are bunched up together again, but nothing else is touching. Not even their legs. “Of course, we’re good.”

Yeonjun exhales through his mouth. “Okay.”

Soobin stares at the dangling light, hurts when he says it out loud. “You’re my best friend.”

_Best friend forever, right?_

“I will always be your best friend,” he shuts his lips together, overwhelmingly scared. He doesn’t want to lose this. He doesn’t want to lose Yeonjun just because of his stupid feelings. “I don’t want that to change.”

“Okay,” Yeonjun’s voice is small. “Okay, I understand.”

“I’m sorry,” he says. _I’m sorry I’m in love with you. I’m sorry I can’t handle you without splitting in half._

Yeonjun lets out a strangled sound. “I’m sorry, too.”

“Okay,” he nods again.

It’s not pitch black. Yeonjun doesn’t get up to turn off the light. They’re not in their spaceship anymore.

“Good night, Binnie,” he says quietly, not unafraid.

Soobin turns his body to face the wall. He closes his eyes hard enough to hurt. “Good night, Yeonjun,” and he’s back to being a twenty year old boy.

*

The thing about this love is Soobin will always wait for it.

This is his last day here. It isn’t monumental or anything. It’s just another day. He wakes up in the afternoon and Yeonjun is watching Youtube on the floor by the bed.

He doesn’t look like he’s slept. His eyes are bruised, dark circles under them.

“Do you want to go out?” Yeonjun asks him, and Soobin shrugs.

“Whatever you want,” Soobin says, because he’d gladly take anything.

They end up on the bed again, still not showering yet, Yeonjun’s laptop balanced on their laps. Soobin leans back to the headboard.

“Interstellar?” he guesses.

Yeonjun laughs idly. “Yeah, is that okay?”

He’s never asked before. He’d always play the movie silently, always assuming that Soobin would want to watch it too. He always does, never without fail.

But Yeonjun’s waiting for his answer now.

Soobin nods quietly, the heat of the laptop slowly burning his thigh. “Yeah, I missed watching it with you,” he assures. “I can’t wait to see you cry.”

Yeonjun rolls his eyes and presses play.

And Soobin realizes it. As soon as he wakes up, the air is different. The atmosphere. The way it’s unbreathable, almost, as Yeonjun strays a lot further than he used to, and their skin don’t meet.

They’ve never been like this before. They’ve fought and made up, but never this much.

Not to the point where Yeonjun holds his own hand as the movie progresses. Not to the point where Yeonjun hides in the crook of his own elbow instead of Soobin’s shoulder.

Soobin thinks he needs to get used to it. He thinks he needs to get over it.

This isn’t his warmth to miss. Never was.

As expected, Yeonjun cries at the same part of the movie like he always did, and Soobin sniffles back a tear when Copper arrives at Murph’s planet and they reunite once again. The laptop becomes a scorching mess, but it doesn’t burn as much as the distance between even when they’re just a few inches away.

“Fuck,” Yeonjun is full on sobbing now. “Why does that _always_ get me.”

Soobin moves the laptop to the bed, then uses the sleeve of his shirt to dry his damp cheeks.

(Yeonjun would usually wipe his tears off on Soobin. Yeonjun would usually pester him until he’s crying in his hold and Soobin had to pat his head and tell him it’s just a movie)

He thinks he’s crying for a different reason entirely. He thinks his heart is aching for something he was never supposed to reach.

“Man, this sucks,” Yeonjun lies himself down and burrows his face to the pillow until he can only see the back of his head. “ _I hate this_.”

Soobin reaches out to tug him up softly. “Don’t do that. You can’t breathe like that.”

Yeonjun turns his head, peeking at him. “You’re not still mad at me?”

“Do you think I would let you suffocate if I _was_ still mad at you?”

“Maybe,” Yeonjun deflates a little, but melts a lot more. “Are you?”

It’s strange. Everything about this is strange. They’ve always had a routine, a safe habit on how they act around each other. It’s jarring when something changes. It’s a missing piece. They can’t just let it go.

Soobin can’t help it. He can’t help it. Yeonjun’s still here with him. “I told you we’re okay,” he says quietly. “I mean it - we’re okay. Just - just don’t be too overwhelming. That’s all I ask, Yeonjun.”

Yeonjun nods against the pillow. “Okay, Binnie.”

It gets better after that. Yeonjun doesn’t teeter around him like a wounded deer, but he doesn’t go all up on his space like he used to. They go out in the evening.

Soobin’s saying goodbye. He’s saying goodbye to the city’s noise. He’s saying goodbye to the city’s same sky. He’s saying goodbye as Yeonjun lets their hands untangled and apart.

Maybe he doesn’t want any of this to be graspable. Maybe he doesn’t want Yeonjun to be graspable anymore. Maybe he doesn’t want to be able to clutch on a moment.

Yeonjun smiles at him, and maybe it’s always supposed to go away. Maybe it’s always meant to be a moment in time he can’t ever get back.

_Maybe that’s how it’s always supposed to be._

“Let’s go to the park,” he says, but doesn’t hold him.

And maybe, Yeonjun is always supposed to be an unbearable love that he needs to bear.

Maybe first love isn’t meant to last, because it hurts when it does.

Yeonjun doesn’t hold his hand, but he drags him by the sleeve, and it’s an enough thread to go by. It’s enough to know that they’re both still here.

He’ll be okay, he thinks, as he watches the sun spilling orange on Yeonjun’s skin, and he’s shining the most bright than he’s ever known him. It doesn’t change, of course not. Not this soon anyway. Nothing about his love has ever been fleeting.

The smile on Yeonjun’s lips isn’t forever. It stays for a second before it fleets away. And his voice, honeyed, that goes away too. Everything about Yeonjun is ephemeral.

Soobin is never meant to bear forever. Maybe no one is.

The sun sets eventually. It finally rests.

Yeonjun talks to him. Soobin doesn’t feel like saying anything, so he listens until the day burns itself to the sole of his shoes and gets washed out. He listens to his evanescent words until nothing hurts anymore.

Soobin is going back home. There isn’t one for him here.

“You have an early flight tomorrow,” Yeonjun says to him, a shadowy figure. “Do you want to head back? We can still go somewhere else if you want.”

“No,” he shakes his head. He doesn’t think he can handle more of Yeonjun’s room. “Let’s stay.”

Soobin stares at the boy, and knows he needs to let him go. His relentless smile. His barely there, untold lips. His far-fetched hands. His twenty year old love.

They stay at the park.

*

Not all goodbyes are memorable.

Sometimes it’s simply mundane and hurtful, and Soobin has to deal with that.

He knows Yeonjun is trying not to cry. He’s red from holding it in, tears pooling on the bottom of his eyelids. Soobin presses close to him as a reminder that he’s not going yet. He’s still _here_.

 _Don’t worry,_ he says with the tip of his fingertip where it almost touches his. _I’m still here._

The walk inside the airport is slow, like they’re trying to drag it out. Soobin’s legs are heavier. His shoes are suffocating, sand still latching. The feel of Yeonjun’s bare feet on his as water drums in.

He’s trying not to cry, too. He knows it’s another two years of waiting. He knows that life is going to start again. He knows that he’ll be back in Seoul without Yeonjun and he has to get used to it again.

The clear, open windows sting. The long, mazed corridors hurt.

Soobin begins to really hate airports. He hates seeing people saying goodbyes. He hates that he’s both saying it and receiving it. He wishes for another way. He wishes for another chance.

The thing about Yeonjun is he will always wait for him.

It’s never enough. He would always wait for another. He’d wait for another trip. Another trip where they don’t need to ache like this. Another collision where they don’t crash, and nothing about the explosion fumes.

“Binnie,” Yeonjun says, his voice a faraway dream once again. “Are you sure you got everything?”

It’s Soobin leaving him behind now. It’s Soobin with the suitcase, the telescope dangling on the zipper.

Yeonjun helped him pack. He’s aware there’s no single item out of place. “Yeah,” Soobin still nods. “I’m sure.”

He looks helpless, like he doesn’t know what to do with his body, his limbs. He’s sitting awkwardly beside him, shaky hands clasped on his lap.

Soobin opens his palm up, and waits. Yeonjun holds it hesitantly.

He stares at Yeonjun’s hand. Long fingers, slender. They weren’t this long before. It used to be little hand on little hand, but everything else has changed. They’re not in a bus stop.

Time finally runs out because it always does.

The gates are behind him, and it’s another farewell all over again. Standing in front of each other with everything unsaid on the tip of their tongue. Tongue-tied again. Starstruck again.

Yeonjun looks at him. A light year away from his earth.

At least their hands are still interlaced. At least he’s still here. At least he’s still his best friend.

“Binnie,” he whispers, muffled by noise.

He hears him though. Hears everything else too. “Yeah?”

Yeonjun’s bottom lip wobbles, and his eyes are bloodshot red. He’s not holding it in anymore. “Binnie,” he chokes out desperately. “It’s only two years, right?”

He can’t help it. He can’t help it, this is the boy that he loves. Soobin wants him to know that he’s still here, _God_ , he’s always here for him, even if he’s nine thousand kilometers away.

“I’m still watching over you,” Soobin says quietly. He can’t help it, he’s only human.

He reaches out, holding him like he always wants to. Thumbs at Yeonjun’s cheeks until his eyelids drop and he closes his eyes. His skin burns and wilts, and Yeonjun surrenders at his touch, everything else unimportant.

“Yeonjun,” he whispers, just to the two of them. “I’m still watching over you.”

He nods against his hands. Soobin feels his wretched pulse on his fingertip, right below his ear. He’s breaking apart.

“Yeonjun,” he says again. Fonder than any name.

He doesn’t want to leave him. He doesn’t want to leave him, but time ticks and the sun rises even higher. Soobin rushes forward until they meet in the middle again.

Yeonjun burrows his face deep on his shouder, his body trembling. His hands are caged around his body, scarring everywhere, the bumps of them grasping on his shirt. Soobin holds him back.

The thing about Yeonjun is he will always wait for him.

And he has. He has waited for him for two years. He’s been pretending for more.

Not anymore. _Not anymore._

“Best friend forever, right?” he says faintly, echoing what Yeonjun has always asked of him. He’s Yeonjun’s best friend. That’s how it’s always been.

Yeonjun stiffens against him, but nods eventually, a tight line on his lips as he steps away to look at him. He knocks their foreheads together.

“But I do love you, Binnie,” he breathes pityingly. “I’m sorry.”

 _That’s how it’s always going to be_.

“I know,” Soobin says, the truth that hurts the most. Still comes out as a lie. “I love you too.”

Time is cruel like the kiss. People start bustling inside.

Soobin touches him like this one last time. One last time today, one last time ever. He was never supposed to touch him like this. “I’ll see you again,” he promises, bracing himself as he lets go of the hug. Yeonjun’s eyes blink open. Suddenly he’s not a few inches away.

Their bodies aren’t aligned anymore, but their fingers are still tangling, until the joints finally brush together in the end, and Soobin is the first to move.

He takes a lingering look at him. It’s an almost three-year kiss on his mouth, and Soobin sees it for what it is. There’s no bumpy music. No more moon watching them.

“Bye, Binnie,” he whispers.

“Bye,” he stares at the color of his voice. The smile on his lips that never strays too far. Hands that aren’t eternal. He takes him as he is.

Yeonjun was never going to be an astronaut.


	3. downpour

Soobin has his first date ever on September twelfth.

Taehyun sets them up together. It’s a boy in their class - Son Haneul. Fiery brown hair, nice teeth, a smile that only lights up half of his face. He’s as tall as Soobin. His limbs are long and flailing, and when he walks, he towers over everyone else. He sees Soobin at eye-level, though.

They’ve hung out before. Friendly ones, at that. Haneul waves his hand when he passes by. Soobin says hi to him in their morning classes. They’re not friends. But they’re familiar. He thinks that should be enough.

Haneul is - he’s okay. There’s nothing wrong with him. He’s nice. He smells expensive, hair always slicked back. He doesn’t say a lot but when he does, the words are strung together tightly, impressionable.

Taehyun looks at him from Soobin’s bed. The mirror in front of him is suddenly fogging and unclear. Soobin’s shirt is a little too tight around his neck.

“You excited?” Taehyun asks, eyebrows raising up, and Soobin has to physically gulp it down.

That’s not the first word that he would choose. “Sure,” Soobin says in a tiring attempt. “More nervous, maybe.”

Taehyun looks like he gets it. Of course he does. Soobin’s done nothing but vent to him about his poor, broken heart. He’s been incredibly resilient in trying to piece them back together like a good friend would.

 _Yeonjun doesn’t deserve you then,_ he always says. _He doesn’t get it_.

He doesn’t hide how much he resents him. Always with a frown, an indignant voice, that familiar crease in his forehead when he comes up in a conversation.

 _I told you he doesn’t treat you like a best friend_ , Taehyun insists. _I’m your best friend. I don’t treat you like that_.

Soobin always tells him the same thing: _that’s just how he’s always been. That’s how he acts around me. We’ve known each other for our whole life, Taehyun, what else do you expect?_

Taehyun always sighs. _You can’t see it either, can’t you?_

“You’ll be fine,” he reassures. “It’s just a date.”

“That’s the point,” Soobin counters.

“It’s just a date,” he repeats, the lines of his face smoothing down. Soobin comes over to lie himself on the bed too. He listens to Taehyun’s breaths. Counting from one. “If you don’t like him enough, don’t get on a second date.”

Soobin stares at the ceiling, stomach knotting uncomfortably. “And if I like him enough?”

“If you like him enough,” Taehyun says soothingly. “Then that’s okay, too.”

He shuts his eyes tight. It’s been months since LA. It’s been months since Yeonjun rejected him for the second time, point blank like a bullet.

“I’m a little scared,” Soobin confides quietly. It’s not about the date. It’s not about Haneul. It’s what he’s about to find out at the end of the night.

“I know,” Taehyun says. He’s beside him, not too far away. “Let’s just get through this first, okay?”

Soobin nods, the clock ticking. “Okay.”

Haneul picks him up at his house, the ever insufferable gentleman. He looks good. Shining eyes, fitted jeans. Soobin wonders if this is what it’s supposed to feel like - beating heart, line of sweat on his palms, a nervous awkward laugh out of his mouth.

Then it’s Soobin’s first date ever in his life. They go bowling.

The place reeks of fun. Everyone’s having fun - Soobin sees it on the group of people by his right, the girl with glasses holding the bowling pin ball, even the one boy bopping his head with earphones on by the corner.

And maybe, Soobin is supposed to have fun, too.

Everything about the date feels like a miniature. Soobin finds himself resorting back to what’s familiar. _This is not_.

Hanuel’s laugh reminds him of a scratchy fingernail. Haneul’s blown out, black eyes remind him of a pitch darkness he’s decided against missing.

“You want to try?” he asks, his voice low like a shoreline. Offers him the bowling ball.

Soobin stares. Haneul’s face is a little asymmetric. He’s made of edges, overhanging cliffs.

“Sure,” he says, then grips the ball in his hand.

He doesn’t know what he’s doing. His heart is beating restlessly under his shirt. He squints at the row of bowling pins, unsure.

“Need help?”

Hanuel is too close. Soobin feels him on his back, the imminent heat. Then there’s smooth fingers on the line of his arm, gliding softly until they reach Soobin’s hand on the ball.

They grip.

“Have you played before?”

Haneul is too close. He smells too nice. Too foreign. He sounds too gruff. Nothing like what he knows.

Soobin shrugs, lets him stay. “Not a lot,” he says.

“I can see that,” he jokes, but Soobin doesn’t laugh. It’s fork scratching on a plate. “Just like this - yeah. Like that. Go ahead.”

He drops the bowling ball and throws it off the alley, watching it steer to the left as he misses the pins entirely. Haneul only laughs at him - not unkindly, just there to fill in the silence.

Soobin steps back a little to look at Haneul picking up another bowling ball and throws it perfectly down the line, until the pins fall down clatteringly. It’s deafening in the starkness of the date.

The night slowly ends. Haneul doesn’t point out how he mostly stays quiet. He doesn’t mention that Soobin’s barely paying attention. He doesn’t ask him to do anything else, either.

Which sucks, because Haneul doesn’t seem like a jerk. He seems genuinely nice.

Soobin can’t really -

He can’t feel him, though.

It’s his first date in twenty years. He’s imagined it before. He always thought it would be a lot more. Lively. A lot more comfortable too.

Not every firsts are special, he thinks.

Sometimes they’re bland and simply okay.

“Hey,” he says, when they’re out the building and the wind’s on his face. Haneul turns to look at him.

“Yeah?”

Soobin fiddles with his hands, contemplating. He just wants to try, wants to give it a chance. A small, undemanding nudge. “Can we get ice cream?”

Haneul’s eyes widen a little like he’s surprised, but then he nods affirmingly. “Sure.”

It’s not a grand thing. There’s a small parlour by the corner, one Soobin has never visited before. Haneul gives him a cone. He’s holding one in his hold too.

Soobin thinks he could like him if he tries hard enough. Not effortless.

“Thanks,” Soobin says, the ice melting on his tongue. The parlour. The ice cream. This is something familiar.

Haneul shakes his head, waving his hand dismissively. “Don’t mention it.”

They’re not close enough. This date is supposed to be a step closer to being close. But the silence is awkward, enveloping between strangers. They’re not friends.

The ice cream’s nice, though. The night is warm too.

Soobin takes the time to breathe. He’s been on edge the entire time. He opens his palms up until they’re loose. Lets his shoulders slack, unstrained.

“Do you want to go home?” Haneul asks when the cones are gone. He doesn’t look mad. He doesn’t look like anything, actually.

Soobin nods, wiping his hands on his jeans. Haneul nods too.

It still isn’t grand. Not even a third chance would change anything.

He drops him off at his house again. He follows him to his doorstep, hanging around awkwardly as he shuffles his feet. Soobin isn’t quite sure what’s the right thing to say either.

“Thanks for bringing me out,” he settles with this. Non-committed enough. But he means it enough.

Haneul smiles at him, then bows a little. “Goodbye, Soobin.”

There’s a finality there, wrapped tightly around his voice. Soobin didn’t expect him to kiss him, but it’s still a relief to see him turn around and go back to his car without a word.

The date’s okay. It’s fine. There’s nothing wrong with it.

_Empty._

Soobin stays still for a moment until the car’s blinkers are gone and what’s left is the barely-there glow of the porchlight. He numbly takes his shoes off and runs upstairs to his room.

His heart beats uncharacteristically loud as the door clicks.

Then his phone rings.

_Yeonjun._

Soobin stares at his bedside lamp. He ignores it and turns the lights off.

He stumbles around to his bed, the pitch blackness surrounding him like home. His knee meets the bed. His head meets his pillow. His feet dangles over by the edge.

There’s no difference in opening or closing his eyes. He’s greeted by the same thing anyway.

Soobin accepts the call. “Hey.”

Nothing’s on the end of the line for a few confusing moments. Like a habit, he does the math again. It’s only seven in the morning.

He’s never felt the sixteen hours more than this moment.

“ _Hey_ ,” Yeonjun’s voice comes as a crack. “ _Am I bothering you?_ ”

Soobin shakes his head in the dark. “No, of course not,” he says quietly. “What’s up?”

“ _Just wanted to call. How was your day?_ ”

He can tell that Yeonjun feels it too. The weird, unspoken air between them. The weak bridge that grows everyday. Everything is unspoken, overbearing now. He can’t handle it now.

He bites his lip. Presses his eyelids down until there are little splotches of colors burned to the back of them. “I just got back home.”

“ _Oh, from where?”_

“From a date,” Soobin says. A part of him wants to show it off, tell him that he can move on, too. He hesitates, a pitying laugh between his teeth. “Can you believe this is my first date in twenty years?”

Yeonjun’s respond comes a moment too late. “ _How was it?_ ”

Soobin knows there's no going back from this. That fight in LA, that was permanent damage. It gets broken there, fractured, and now they're trying to be okay with broken bones.

“It was fun,” he lies. At least it was a date. At least he was willing to open it up again - his brittle, hopeful heart. “We went bowling.”

It’s delayed again. A slight ruffling on the speaker. “ _That’s great, Binnie. Will there be a second date?_ ”

“I think so,” he lies again. Ecstatic as the truth finally becomes bare: Soobin’s moving on. Yeonjun shouldn’t have to worry about his stupid feelings anymore.

Yeonjun laughs, though it’s scratchy and forceful. “ _Well. Happy for you, then_.”

Soobin gulps it down. “Have you been going on dates?”

“ _No,_ ” Yeonjun says distantly. “ _I don’t - I’m not feeling it_.”

“Why?”

“ _Are you okay with that?”_

Soobin’s breath halts a little, stuck in his throat. His voice cracks in confusion. “Why does it matter?”

“ _Oh, yeah,”_ Yeonjun’s laugh is hollow. Pungent. “ _You’re right, sorry_.”

Their silence is different. It’s not familiarly comfortable. It’s comfortably unfamiliar, now.

All because Soobin falls in love.

“I wish you find someone,” Soobin says earnestly. Yeonjun deserves it more than anyone else.

“ _Yeah_ ,” he says. “ _One day, maybe._ ”

Soobin’s room is pitch black. He could pretend a lot of things here. He could pretend that he isn’t in his room. Yeonjun’s here, the walls are gone, and they’re off to Soobin’s planet.

He doesn’t, though.

“ _Hey, I - I need to go. I’ll talk to you later, okay?”_

“Isn’t it morning?”

“ _I have, you know, things to do,”_ Yeonjun rushes off, his voice stickly. “ _I’m very happy for you_.”

Soobin purses his lips. “It was just a date.”

“ _Still,”_ Yeonjun insists quietly. “ _Still happy for you_.”

Soobin ignores it. “Thank you,” he manages to say.

“ _Of course_ ,” Yeonjun pauses heavily. “ _Bye, Binnie_.”

Not every firsts are special, he thinks.

*

Yeonjun doesn’t pick up his calls on his birthday.

Soobin waits for twelve again, because that’s what he usually does. But when he dials his number, it doesn’t even connect. He reckons Yeonjun’s phone is probably dead or something.

He doesn’t think much about it at first, simply text him a simple _happy birthday_ and _i hope you’re okay_. Maybe he falls asleep. Maybe there’s an assignment he needs to finish with a close deadline, so he turns his phone off to avoid distraction.

Maybe. Soobin doesn’t know the reason, but he doesn’t think too much about it. It isn’t even the thirteenth yet in LA. It’s not a big deal. Yeonjun’s birthday is just a birthday anyway.

(He doesn’t think about the third year anniversary)

He knows there’s something estranged when he wakes up in the morning and it’s still _nothing_. Radio silence. Soobin refreshes his phone multipe times to check that Yeonjun really hasn’t responded or let him know why he’s been gone for a whole day.

Soobin brushes past it. Yeonjun has a life in LA. He’s probably busy.

But he hasn’t told him anything about it, though. Which is uncharacteristic for him. They don’t always talk but he still sends him little updates throughout his day. If he has something to do, he always lets him know.

This is weird. Worrying, too.

Soobin sits in class with fidgeting hands, glancing at his phone every now and then. The small _Yeonjun_ doesn’t appear on the screen. Taehyun looks at him with curious eyes.

“He’s never like this,” Soobin says once they’re out of class.

Taehyun tries to reassure him, patting his shoulder. “He’s probably busy.”

That’s what he thinks too and tries to believe, until it’s finally twelve in LA too and Yeonjun still hasn’t said anything. Soobin stares at his phone for a long moment before it really dawns on him that he missed it his birthday twice this year.

 _You get two birthdays for me._ That’s been the case for two years now. Not today.

Soobin pushes his disappointment aside. He doesn’t dwell on it even as he gets home and his phone is defeaningly silent. He puts it on his table, waiting for it to bleep, _anything_ really, but Soobin is able to continue his work without disruption.

It’s only the next day when Soobin gets a text. Unceromonious.

**_yeonjun_ **

_hey_

_thanks for the birthday wish_

Soobin immediately goes to call him but Yeonjun sends him another text.

**_yeonjun_ **

_i can’t call rn sorry_

**_me_ **

_wanna wish you a proper happy birthday :(_

**_yeonjun_ **

_you can send me a voice note if you want_

**_me_ **

_okay_

**_yeonjun_ **

_okay_

Soobin’s heart hammers loudly in his chest as he thinks about what to say. He leans back on the wall, blanket still tangled between his feet.

Then, he speaks:

_Happy birthday, Yeonjun. It’s - it’s a little weird doing it like this. I was waiting for you the whole day, but I guess you’re - you’re busy, aren’t you? Anyway. Happy birthday. I hope you had a lot of fun._

Yeonjun disappears again. Soobin carries on.

That’s how they talk now. Yeonjun doesn’t call him anymore.

He keeps asking for voice notes, though. Sometimes he asks randomly, when it’s two in the morning in LA or eight at night in Seoul. A small, unexpected text: _send me your voice._ Soobin always closes his eyes and thinks about what he wants to say, and it spills out in these compact pieces of himself.

Soobin always asks for one back. He closes his eyes too, as he listens to Yeonjun talk. It’s more like a check-up, sometimes. Yeonjun rambles on about his day, what he eats, what he does at college. He tells him if the sun’s hot or not. Never more than two minutes, but Soobin deeply cherishes them. He listens to them back when he misses him more than he should, and hears him say the same thing for a week straight.

Yeonjun doesn’t call him anymore.

_*_

_It doesn’t rain a lot here. I miss it. It’s too grave here, sometimes. A little too colorless. I want to paint over it, or something. Make a new world. Like how I made your planet. Ah, forget it. What did you do today?_

*

_I had to do a presentation today and it went really well. I was really nervous but I had it under control. I didn’t hesitate or anything, the words naturally came out. Taehyun was so proud of me, he gave me a thumbs up at the end of it. I - I feel really good, Yeonjun._

_*_

_I’m proud of you, Binnie. So proud of you. My classes have been more exhausting than usual. I have to cram a lot of my schedule together. Deadlines are killing me. Wish I was there._

_*_

_I wish you were here too._

Yeonjun doesn’t text him for another week after that.

*

_Binnie, tell me. What does your sky look like? I can’t really see anything here. Just the night sky. I miss your house. I miss my house. It’s weird how much I miss the little things. The edge of your bed that I always bump into. The hardcase of your phone. I miss building forts with you too. Miss being little._

*

Soobin doesn’t say much, just the truth:

_It’s still the same thing here, Yeonjun._

_*_

_I move dorms again. I don’t like this one anymore. My bed is still small, though. Doesn’t matter because it’s only for me anyway._

_*_

_I watched Interstellar with Taehyun yesterday. He likes it. But he doesn’t cry, I did._

It’s another week of silence after that. Soobin gets used to it.

*

_I miss high school sometimes. It was so much easier, wasn’t it? I miss being in the library, and you - you with the little lines on your forehead. You always pout when you’re concentrating. You’ve always been stupidly good, Binnie. I meant that, always. I know I don’t say it a lot, but your friendship is so precious to me. I don’t know how to feel about this, Binnie. it’s harder than I thought it would be, being friends with you._

_*_

Soobin cries a little. He closes his eyes until it burns, the sun on his ceiling.

_I’m sorry for making it weird for you. Your friendship is the most important thing to me too. I hope this doesn’t change that._

_*_

Then, Yeonjun drops a bomb on his birthday:

_Binnie, happy birthday. I wish you nothing but the best. You know that, right? I’m sorry for everything - I know I messed everything up, but I wish I could take it back. Really, I do. I - I promise I’m trying so we could be back to how we used to. I’m really - I’m really sorry. I swear I’m trying for you, but I don’t think I can look at you anymore. Or hear your voice anymore. It’s - it’s too much. This feels like another fight. Or, it just never ended... and you! You had a date! That’s - that’s great, I’m happy for you. I’m sorry, Binnie, I just want time, I think. To get used to this. Ah sorry I’m rambling, happy birthday once again. Sorry I’m late. I hope you have fun. I love you. I do. I just need you to know that. You know, whatever happens. No matter how much I fucked it up. You will always find a friend in me. I’m sorry, Soobin._

Soobin doesn’t send his voice back.

*

A few weeks after New Year, Taehyun drags him to a bar.

He dresses him up nice. Taehyun tells him he wants a little refresher, wants to let loose a little. But he knows that twinkle in his eyes. That secrecy.

“You’re not even dressing up,” Soobin points out, as Taehyun fixes the collar of his shirt.

Taehyung doesn’t miss a beat, and shrugs. “I _am._ It’s rude that you say that.”

“You’re dressing _me_ up,” Soobin says again.

“It’s because you never go out,” Taehyun raises a brow at him.

Soobin knows what Taehyun’s doing. He’s been a mess. That would be an understatement - he’s been devastated. College has been a helpful distraction. Taehyun does his best to take his mind off things, too, but maybe he’s been too far down the hole to really see how miserable he is from another person’s eyes.

He doesn’t need the bar, though. Doesn’t need to meet anyone either.

“I go out a normal amount,” Soobin retorts back, but Taehyun’s gaze is final. He doesn’t say anything else.

The bar has a distinct noise. Clattering glass, hands against wood, chair on floor. Distinct lighting; dimming, yellowish light. Barely there, ghostly. It has a distinct feel too. Almost like a place out of a dream.

Taehyun goes to sit beside him and tells the bartender to fix them a drink. Soobin leans back on his chair, dragging his elbows on the wooden table. Kneads his cheeks with his fingers until he’s fully awake.

Someone taps the mic gently, the sound ringing from the speaker. A huff of breath against it. Soobin peeks a little from his shoulder. There’s someone in the little corner where a singer would perform, a silhoutte that makes Soobin’s stomach coil tight.

A laugh escapes, bumpy in Soobin’s ears.

“Hi, everyone,” the voice goes on. Soobin’s heart does a little backflip, remembers more than he does. “I hope you enjoy me.”

It starts with a tender strum of guitar. A nostalgic melody to it. Soobin is tuning in, waiting for the next second to come. He closes his eyes.

Soobin doesn’t breathe. It’s stuck, hitched between waiting ribs.

The voice is sweet. Charming. It glides in the air against Soobin’s better judgement. It’s wet gravel, shoes on damp streets. He turns around properly to match the face to the familiar voice.

Familiar boy.

It’s Choi Beomgyu in the corner.

He sits with a guitar on his lap, defty fingers on the strings. His eyes look a little misty from where Soobin’s sitting, but they’re not really looking at anything, Soobin realizes. They’re seeing shapes only he knows. They bear feelings only he could.

Soobin stares at him woundedly. It’s been three years since he last seen him in that parking lot, that dejected smile shone by the night sky. It’s been three years since he pretended he wanted him, too.

“ _Your name,_ ” Beomgyu sings, a little edged at the end of the line. He’s staring down, dark bangs on his forehead. “ _Forever the name on my lips._ ”

He looks good. Wine-stained jacket wrapped around him. Long legs stretching down the chair. He doesn’t look different at all, actually. He looks the same as high school.

Soobin wonders what else has changed. Wonders if his fingers are still rough. Wonders if he still looks the same up close.

The song goes on long enough that Soobin feels himself lulled. His drink forgotten on the table. Taehyun becomes a blur fragment on the seat next to him.

Beomgyu knocks the mic with his face when he raises his head, and the carefree laugh that comes out after injures a sore bruise deep inside of him. Soobin didn’t think he would see him again. Not accidentally like this, anyway.

Taehyun looks at him funny. Downs his drink, doesn’t even wince. “Why do you look like that?”

“It’s him,” he says. “The cartoon bear.”

“The one you took to gradution,” Taehyun trails off. “ _Oh_.”

He stares as Beomgyu prepares himself for the next song. Taps the mic again, making sure it’s still on, then his hand moves, and another song starts.

“Yeah,” Soobin downs his drink too. Winces a little. Doesn’t think about anything else. “Oh _._ ”

Taehyun is staring too. “He’s really good.”

Soobin didn’t get to hear him sing in high school. This is the first time he sees him with a guitar too.

_You must be a prodigy._

There’s such ease in the way he’s closing eyes in bliss, fingers moving effortlessly. Beomgyu is something else entirely like this, draped in the comfiness of his guitar and his voice. He’s a binding thing here as the glass clicks, the door opens, and Soobin’s throat still burns.

He remembers liking his voice in high school. It’s always deep and reverbs back. Soobin remembers when he finally hears it outside of the library, not whispery anymore, and he was struck by how much he liked it. Beomgyu always talks nicely. Smoothly pleasing.

Soobin can’t tell how many songs it’s been. They all bleed to each other as Soobin’s mind goes into a haze, and Beomgyu’s voice is light and airy. He can’t tell how many songs it’s been, but he laughs into the mic again and Soobin perks up.

Beomgyu finishes it off with a smile. He mutters a sincere _thank you_ to the mic before stepping off.

He stays in that little corner for awhile, dealing with the cables and putting the guitar back to the case. He’s unaware of everything else. Soobin panics as it dawns on him that he’s going to walk right past him.

Does he greet him?

Does he ignore him and let him go by?

Soobin doesn’t get to decide, because Beomgyu walks closer, and closer, and closer, until he’s taking up the space in the vacant seat next to him. Guitar between them. Leaning against the counter, talking to the bartender casually like a friend.

“Thanks,” Beomgyu says, then Soobin turns around to face him.

Beomgyu stares right through him for a couple seconds, eyes completely blank as they’re adjusting to the light.

“Hey,” Soobin croaks out, heart speeding up.

“Oh my god,” Beomgyu’s eyes widen in surprise as recognition fills in, slumping back noisily on his chair. “Oh my god, what the heck.”

Soobin laughs. Pink lips with doe eyes. He looks the same.

“Hey,” he says again. “You were - you were really good.”

Beomgyu opens his mouth, little sounds at the back of his throat. He starts shaking his head frantically, laughing as he leans forward to really look him in the eyes.

He’s overly highlighted by the dim lights, but Soobin still makes out the tug of his lips.

“No way,” Beomgyu hushes. “You saw me sing?”

“Yeah, I’ve been here since Taylor Swift.”

“That’s almost all the way back from the start.”

Soobin nods slowly. “Yeah.”

“No way,” Beomgyu says again, now giggling. He looks genuinely happy to see him. Surprised as well, but mostly happy. Soobin doesn’t really understand that. Maybe the past is the past, he thinks. “What are the odds?”

“My friend wanted me to go out,” Soobin’s about to introduce him to Taehyun, when he realizes that he’s not even in his seat anymore. The bastard. He must have left for _this,_ so Soobin could talk to Beomgyu alone. “Ah - he’s gone.”

Beomgyu’s still looking at him. Curious, gleaming eyes. “Wow, hi. Really, hi. Hi, Soobin,” he extends his hand playfully.

Soobin laughs, but still accepts the handshake. “Hi, Beomgyu.”

“It’s been so long, dude, I didn’t expect to see you _at all_ ,” Beomgyu takes the drink from the bartender and gulps it down. Forehead creasing a little before it finally smooths out again. “How are you? What are you up to?”

“I’ve been good,” Soobin lies, nods for formality more than anything else. “College has been good, too. I’ve been just, you know, hanging around.”

“What major?”

“Education.”

Beomgyu nods approvingly. “Ah, of course.”

“How about you?”

“Communication,” he says, nods again. “But I sing here sometimes. I teach piano to little kids too.”

Soobin expects just as much, really. “Cool. That’s really cool. You’ve found what you wanted to do, then?”

“Sure,” he shrugs, smiling wide. “I’ve just been having fun.”

Soobin traces his finger to the line of his eyebrow, doesn’t really have the brain-to-mouth filter right now, the alcohol’s settling in nice. “Uh,” he murmurs. “How’s Kai?”

“He’s _great_. He’s studying music.”

“Cool. You still hang out?”

“Of course,” Beomgyu laughs, then hesitates a little. “How’s Yeonjun?”

Soobin purses his lips, trailing the glass’s surface. “We haven’t been talking.”

“Yeah?” Beomgyu leans forward again until they’re a little closer. “Why?”

“It’s complicated,” Soobin brushes it off. “We kind of had a fight. Didn’t really know how to resolve it.”

Or: Yeonjun doesn’t know how to handle Soobin’s feelings. Soobin doesn’t know how to handle Soobin’s feelings.

“Man, that sucks,” Beomgyu sighs. Soobin doesn’t really know how to talk about it either.

The thing about Yeonjun is Soobin never really figures out how to be his best friend.

“You were inseperable in high school,” he goes on, sharp against the bar’s ambience. “I thought you’d still be stuck together now.”

“He’s in LA,” Soobin tells him, watches Beomgyu’s eyebrows shooting up. “We haven’t really been stuck together for the last years.”

“Ah. That’s too bad.”

“Yeah,” Soobin hums absentmindedly. Stares at Beomgyu’s flopping hair until it creates a fire. “Too bad.”

“You look good, by the way.”

Soobin blinks as the words finally sink in. They come from Beomgyu’s open lips. He’s staring at him - it’s familiar. It’s _so_ familiar that it aches.

He aches for something familiar.

“You too,” Soobin says, a little hoarse, as he takes it in. Beomgyu is just inches away from him. They used to be years away. Always Beomgyu from graduation stuck in his mind. Beomgyu from high school. Beomgyu, his friend from the past.

They’re not in high school anymore.

This is Beomgyu from the bar. Both present at the same time.

Something changes in the depth of Beomgyu’s eyes. He leans a little closer until their knees bump a little. Cheek on his palm, his elbow resting on the counter. He’s intently looking at him.

“Man, it was such a long time ago huh,” Beomgyu exhales, shoulders moving. “High school was such a long time ago. I can’t believe I’m seeing you again after so many years.”

“Me too. I’m glad I finally hear you sing.”

“I promised to play the guitar for you, right?” he says, still remembering the same memory. Soobin remembers it too, distractingly so. Beomgyu starts chuckling softly against his palm. “Hey, promise me you won’t laugh.”

“What is it?”

“Just promise me.”

Soobin nods. “Yeah, promise.”

Beomgyu’s face turn a little amber. It’s dark under the light, but still visible enough. “You’re kind of my... _first_ everything? You were my first real crush. My first kiss. The first boy who asked me to graduation.”

Soobin’s mind screeches to a halt, but Beomgyu keeps going.

“ _Man_ , I had it bad for you. Ask Kai. I talked about you all the time. I couldn’t - I really couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

He takes a breath. “Yeah?”

Beomgyu nods, smiling sheepishly. He’s so open talking about it now. Soobin is not used to that.

“Yeah. I was _gone_ for you, Soobin.”

Soobin can’t really think. Not when the floor’s a black hole and the boy in front of him is a magnet.

“I was really, _really_ happy when you took me to graduation. Thought it was a dream or something.”

He chokes out a laugh, stares at his empty glass. “It wasn’t,” he says as it stings. They’re not in high school anymore, he reminds himself. He’s not in high school anymore.

_It’s just a party._

Beomgyu smiles even wider, eyes as fond as the first time. “Thank god.”

They catch up more after that. Beomgyu tells him about all the things he’s done in the past years they’ve been apart - the new guitar he bought, how he’s been really content with everything that’s happening in his life.

Beomgyu is still the same presence. He’s calming, relaxing. Not a storm. Not anything as bright as the sun.

He’s that wet bus stop three years ago. Soft rain on pebbles.

They talk so much that Soobin’s voice is a little lost, and Beomgyu’s eyes have turn dopey, faint tiredness etched. They talk so much that the bar is mostly silent.

“Hey, not to cut it short,” Beomgyu says, even though they’ve been here for hours. “But I need to go. It’s late.”

“Okay,” Soobin nods, goes to leave his seat too as Beomgyu stands up. They stare at each for a second before Beomgyu leans in and hugs him briefly, a soft pat on his back.

“Bye, Soobin,” he says, something else lingering. “It was really good to see you again.”

Soobin grips Beomgyu’s shoulder before he could let go, brave all of a sudden. “Can I have your number?”

“Oh,” Beomgyu’s mouth opens, almost shy now. “Yeah - yeah, of course.”

Beomgyu texts himself from Soobin’s phone before finally leaving the bar. Waving his hand before disappearing, the bells chiming. Soobin hazedly finds Taehyun in the corner, and sighs loudly next to him as his head bangs the wall.

Taehyun, the asshole, smirks at him. “You had fun?”

Soobin doesn’t bother to indulge. He nods, and Taehyun scoots closer to him.

*

He listens to it again: _Wish I was there._

He listens to it again: _I love you. I do._

He listens to it again: _No matter how much I fucked it up. You will always find a friend in me._

He listens to it again.

*

Taehyun looks at him with wide eyes, almost boggling out of his skull. “You don’t like coffee?”

Soobin flinches back on the sofa, feeling his knees weaken at his sharp stare. “No,” he shakes his head. The cafe is suddenly suffocating, the walls confining on him. “I’ve never liked coffee.”

Taehyun discovers this a few years too late, but he finds out because they’ve been going here for a week straight and Soobin gets sick eventually because of the caffeine. He pieces two and two together.

He stares at him, betrayed, but confusion overpowers everything else. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

Soobin shrugs easily. “Because you like it.”

Taehyun’s face morphs to something like pity, understanding too. Like he finally figures him out. The root of the problem.

“Soobin - ” Taehyun's voice is frighteningly soft. “You can’t keep doing that to yourself.”

“Doing what?”

“Not telling people how you feel for their sake.”

They’re just words. They’re just words, but Soobin knows what he means. It’s not really about the coffee anymore.

He drags his knees up to his chest, meeting his gaze back. Taehyun looks sad for him. He doesn’t like it, but he understands. Everything about it is humiliating.

It’s embarrassing. His love is embarrassing. He doesn’t want it anymore.

“Hyun, he doesn’t want me,” he whispers quietly. It’s been four months of silence from Yeonjun. It’s been four months of curling himself on the edge of the bed, ignoring his bedside lamp. Four months in a dark room.

Taehyun looks determined, his gaze rough. “So what? _So what,_ Soobin? So what if he doesn’t like you back? It doesn’t mean shit.”

Soobin falters, surprised, but Taehyun goes on.

“Does he know how hard it is to _pretend_ , to act like you don’t care? Does he know how it must’ve taken such a toll on you, to keep this inside for _years_ now? You don’t deserve _this_ , Soobin. You - ” Taehyun fumes, face bright red. Soobin takes it all. “You deserve the love that you give.”

He wipes a tired hand on his face.

“You have to move on, Soobin.”

_I want to get over you._

How many New Years have passed since then. How many trickles of sand have been washed out ever since.

“I’m tired,” he admits quietly. All down to his lungs.

“Then _move_. He has. He made his decision. He made his choice. Make _yours_.”

Soobin doesn’t remember how he met Yeonjun. He was too young, wasn’t even ready to form memories yet. That’s how close they’ve always been -

_Best friend forever, right?_

Forever doesn’t exist. It gets washed up by the shore too. It’s strange to think that their twenty one year friendship is _gone_ \- just like that, all because of a drunken kiss.

All because Soobin falls in love.

“Okay,” Soobin nods, because this love isn’t his anymore. It’s always been Yeonjun’s whether he wants to take it or not. His love isn’t his anymore. “Okay.”

*

He listens to it once more: _I love you. I do._

He turns on the bedside lamp.

*

Soobin takes Beomgyu out on a proper date on May.

The karaoke is Beomgyu’s idea. Their rented booth is showered with dim lights. Soobin can’t really see him here, but Beomgyu’s grin is stark against the light. He’s holding the microphone tightly, screaming into it as the background music thuds hard through the walls.

Soobin laughs on his seat, satisfied just watching him intentionally sing badly, unserious. Beomgyu’s really into the song, closing his eyes, leaning forward dramatically as a high note comes.

“Come on,” Beomgyu holds out his hand when the next song starts. Soobin refuses at first, but Beomgyu drags him up and gives him the mic.

He misses the first few lines, unnecessarily nervous. Beomgyu’s urging him on, dancing beside him as he laughs. “Come one, it’s okay,” he says encouragingly. “Let loose, let it go.”

Soobin ends up screaming the whole song. His throat dries a little, but he considers it worth it when Beomgyu stumbles backward on the sofa as his laugh vibrates through his whole body. Soobin laughs with him, feeling it bubble underneath his chest.

They walk to the park after that.

It’s spring now - everything’s growing. The leaves are as pink as Beomgyu’s lips, fluttering against wind. He looks pretty like this, same as high school.

Beomgyu is safe. Beomgyu is safe, skin warms like coil. Beomgyu is safe as he laughs, and he inches closer until their arms and elbows touch like a library from the past.

“You should come with me to the bar,” he says as the night peaks. Moon between his teeth again. He stops walking to face Soobin properly, hands tugging on his shawl. Soobin peers down a little. “You know, watch me sing again.”

Soobin stares at the speckle of gold by Beomgyu’s right eye. He’s all dizzy. Beomgyu’s breathes into him; his gaze quiet and subdued, but it’s there to look at him.

If he stays still enough, he would feel the earth tilting back. Changing axis. Moving gravity.

But Beomgyu’s so close. Smiling like wet shoes, like dripping water on the tip of his nose in a done rain.

“Soobin,” Beomgyu calls, too clumsy. “Want to know a secret?”

Soobin’s mind floats, a light thing. His heart too; barely intact, but hopefully open. Taking a chance. A leap to something he’s never felt. “Sure,” he exhales.

Beomgyu has always been braver than him. Even in high school - he always jumps first. He dives in head first, love in the line. He runs with his heart in his sleeve. He smiles first, loves first, stretches his arms wide.

Maybe Soobin doesn’t have to be afraid of this. They’re not eighteen year olds anymore. Soobin can be brave too. Soobin can lean in to his space now, not for any other reason than to simply kiss him in a way he never did before.

Beomgyu’s lips are a little chapped and dry, but Soobin surges forward to feel more of him, hands reaching up to properly cradle his face with his hands. Beomgyu smiles on his mouth.

It’s always been easy with Beomgyu - he’s bare, he’s stripped, completely unclad. He’s always been easy because he shows what he feels. He doesn’t talk with him in codes, in secrets, everything else undraped.

He’s always been good.

Beomgyu’s fingers are still rough, pressing on his neck, warmth in them he didn’t get a chance to appreciate. He is, now that Soobin’s heart is mending, and Beomgyu still sighs against his mouth like the kiss is a relief.

“Soobin, I really like you,” Beomgyu says, an echo that doesn’t hurt. Soobin isn’t afraid of it anymore. “I guess I’m still gone for you.”

Soobin wants to cry a little. Beomgyu doesn’t hurt. His warmth doesn’t hurt. The way his hands graze the skin on his cheeks is sacred, fully conscious.

“Okay,” Soobin whispers, a brimful laugh out of his mouth. “Good. That’s good.”

_Wait for me. I’ll catch up with you._

Beomgyu kisses him again, and Soobin kisses him back.

*

Slowly, Beomgyu becomes a part of his life.

He sends him good morning texts with a photo of him in bed, pretty hair messy and askew. Soobin texts him back good night, reminding him to eat well, which Beomgyu replies with a photo of his dinner.

Beomgyu is soothing in all the ways he is. He speaks honestly, words bare as they are, voice always softer than Soobin ever deserves. He holds his hand when he picks him up at college and treats him ice cream first on the way home. Beomgyu playfully sneaks in a smear of his own ice cream on Soobin’s nose, coldness on his skin as it melts down to his shirt.

He doesn’t mind all that much when Beomgyu laughs so hard that his eyes become endearingly small. He watches silently as Beomgyu reaches up to wipe it off with his own hand. So serious, forehead creasing a little as his finger brush the ice cream off his nose, then he mutters a soft _sorry._

“Don’t worry, you’re still cute,” Beomgyu grins at him. It’s such a simple thing, but Soobin feels the force of this new feeling so deep in his chest, that he doesn’t know what to say. He ends up holding his hand on the way home as a wordless reassurance. _I’m almost there with you. Please wait for me._

Soobin tells him he likes him too on August.

It’s another one of their dates - a simple one, now. They’re on Beomgyu’s room and he’s sitting by the edge of the bed, one foot folded on top of his other one. There’s a guitar on his lap.

Soobin leans back a little to watch him properly.

Beomgyu sings the way he loves. Open, sentimental. A sweet melody that gets stuck in your throat. Soobin didn’t get a chance to hear him sing in high school. He listens earnestly now. Makes up for lost time.

When he finishes, Beomgyu smiles at him. Open, sentimental.

Soobin wonders if this is how love should feel like. Innocent and easy, as he stares at Beomgyu’s doe eyes, and they’ve never lost the same shine.

It’s on the tip of his tongue. None of this hurts.

“Beomgyu,” he says, heart patching itself up. Unafraid like he’s never been. “I like you.”

It’s not terrifying as Beomgyu smiles louder at him, and he knows none of this has to be a secret. It’s not daunting as Beomgyu reaches forward for him, and he knows he can stop pretending now.

Nothing about this is an illusion. There’s nothing to decode.

He doesn’t have to pretend in Beomgyu’s room. He doesn’t have to pretend as he’s wrapped in a long time coming kiss that doesn’t have weight.

“Okay,” Beomgyu touches his face. “Good. That’s good.”

*

His parents take him to the living room one day to tell him that they’re going to sell the house.

“What?” Soobin asks, roving over their gaze to find the lie. There’s none. They’re being serious, their stance sure, matching clasped hands on their laps.

“This is an old house,” Mom explains ruefully, pursing her lips. “We’re getting old too, Soobin-ah. We figure we want a smaller space. A quiter place.”

“But - ” Soobin fumbles for an excuse. “But this is _my_ home, I’ve been here my whole life - ”

Dad looks sympathetic, like he’s expected this kind of reaction from him. “We understand that,” he says quietly. “You’re graduating soon. We thought you might want to move out.”

Soobin has thought about it. He knows he won’t live here forever - but he believes he would always have this place to come home to. This is the house he imagines when he thinks about going home to celebrate the holidays. It’s the same dining table, the same porch. He imagines lying back on his bed in his old room and stares at the ceiling, feeling nostalgic of all the times he spent here when he was young.

That’s what you do, right? That’s what you do when you grow up, right?

You look back to what you had, and you wish to go back.

But Soobin didn’t think he would lose this house, too. He already lost everything else.

“But that’s - ” he tries to find another excuse, coming up short. He can’t say goodbye. Not to: the floor next to his bed where their fort would reside. The front door where Yeonjun used to come unannounced. The back porch where their knees touch innocently, but still electrifying. Soobin’s slightly bigger bed that was never a problem. Sunlight from the curtains, spilling in like paint. “That’s _unfair_.”

(Meaning: this house is the last trace of Yeonjun that he still has. Meaning: he’s going to lose his best friend twice)

He doesn’t know if he’ll ever be ready to let it go. That’s the thing, isn’t it? He doesn’t know, he never will. He never has either. He needs to let things go when it’s time. But he never figures out when it’s time.

“It’s a long process,” Mom bargains. “You have time to get used to it.”

Getting used to it. Getting used to the change, that’s what Soobin’s been doing for god knows how long. He nods then, clamming his mouth shut. There’s no room for argument anyway. He knows it’s final.

*

It’s his last year in college.

Time flies when he’s twenty one and his pain just starts to make sense.

Part of it is breaking down habits so ingrained in him it feels like losing a limb. It’s constantly having to navigate life in ways he’s never before.

This is what it used to be a lifetime ago: pebbly road, school bells, gliding skin with a best friend.

This is what it used to be: hours in college, doing assignments at night, pestering Taehyun. This is what it used to be: Yeonjun’s voice on the phone, staring at the ceiling, the same ache lodged between his bones.

This is what it is now: hours in college, hanging out with Beomgyu, feeling his hand on his. This is what it is now: hanging out with _both_ Taehyun and Beomgyu, watching them finally get along. This is what it is now: meeting Huening Kai again after high school. An inevitable thing, hearing him laugh and shine like he used to.

This is what it is now: Beomgyu picking him up for a date, Mom yelling _have fun_ as the car drives out of the house.

This is what it is now: Soobin has a boyfriend.

And he’s okay with it.

It’s odd at first, because he’s never experienced a relationship before. Simple things that he wasn’t aware of are noticeable now, like the plain pleasure in having someone to hold hands with.

_Not like that._

The comfort in knowing that he always has someone to talk to, just a call apart. An arm-length away. One trip, one request, and he always comes running.

_Not like that._

Safety in shared words when he knows someone else is listening. Shelter where he knows he could close his eyes.

_Not like that._

The easiness in leaning in. The unhostile habit of wanting to kiss another mouth, but it’s not riddled.

_It’s never been like that._

Beomgyu is patient with him. He doesn’t force him to speak when he doesn’t want to. He simply looks at him, making sure he’s okay, and holds his hand when the silence is too harsh.

And like this, Soobin learns. Like this, Soobin learns to be loved.

There’s an amount of effort in letting someone in. Soobin knows that when Beomgyu looks at him with something so delicate he’s scared it’ll break. He knows that when Beomgyu has that pleading look in his eyes, and Soobin just wants to cave in.

No one told him this is what a relationship is: a conscious decision to be bare.

He lets him. That’s how he learns. He lets Beomgyu pry his hands inside. He lets Beomgyu touch him in his lungs. His hitched breath, stacking, rowing. Burns but doesn’t hurt.

It was never supposed to hurt.

*

“I like your nose,” Beomgyu chuckles as he boops it with his fingertip.

Soobin closes his eyes, involuntarily backing away from him. “That hurts,” he winces.

“No it doesn’t,” Beomgyu snuggles closer to him and laughs harder as their limbs become an entangled mess on Beomgyu’s bed. Soobin holds onto his shoulder. “You’re just a baby.”

The afternoon lights hits Beomgyu’s cheeks. Just a second before it hits his forehead, then his mouth, then the top of his head when he moves.

Soobin stares as Beomgyu the sun cloaks him in. Revealing.

“I think you’re the baby,” he gulps it down, focuses on the way they’re tangling. “You’re a big baby.”

Beomgyu woundedly smacks his arm, gasping dramatically. “You’re so full of it.”

If he closed his eyes hard enough, this isn’t a scene that he knows too well. He brushes his hand on the side of Beomgyu’s body. Feels his rib cage expanding, then deflates. Touches the way he’s breathing. Makes sure that he isn’t hollow. Not made up out of thin lines.

“I want to take a picture of your nose,” Beomgyu says out of the blue, snatching Soobin’s phone from the bed.

He gets up a little and kneels next to him. Soobin squints.

“You’re so full of it,” he echoes it back, but doesn’t do anything.

Beomgyu obnoxiously shoves the phone to his face, chuckling when the phone smacks Soobin’s nose. He hears the sound of clicking as the pictures are taken.

“It’s _so_ cute,” he coos and gets closer, pressing the knob of his thumb to his nose. Soobin scrunches it away. That only makes Beomgyu do it even harder until it actually hurts and Soobin has to smack his hand. “Cutest nose in the world, I think.”

Soobin’s heart thumps harshly, cheeks heating up from the attention. “Shut up.”

Beomgyu slides himself back next to him on the bed. “I’m going to set this as my contact picture on your phone,” he explains quietly, more to himself than to Soobin. He fumbles with his phone seriously with furrowed eyebrows, lips pursing. Soobin lets him.

“Shit,” he curses suddenly, eyes blowing wide. “Shit, sorry, I didn’t mean to accept the call, my finger slipped - ”

“ _Binnie?_ ”

It’s Yeonjun’s voice from his phone. It’s Yeonjun’s face on his screen, too.

Beomgyu’s face appears on the corner, but Soobin is stuck on the way Yeonjun seems to freeze in place, his face a picture of dread.

“ _Beomgyu? Is that - is that you?_ ” Yeonjun asks confusedly, coming closer to the screen.

Beomgyu waves his hand awkwardly, smiling in a tight line. “Yeah! Hey, Yeonjun. Long time no see. I’m so sorry, I was playing with Soobin’s phone.”

There’s a delayed pause after that where the air thickens, and everything falls into place.

Beomgyu pulls the phone down from his face, then pushes it into Soobin’s hand. They share a look.

_We haven’t been talking._

Soobin sucks in a breath, heart beating frantically. His ears are muffled as the first sound hits; Yeonjun’s familiar voice that he hasn’t heard in almost a year.

_Ah. That’s too bad._

He takes the phone and flips it back up. His blood runs cold.

“Yeonjun,” he breathes, can’t help but shake. “I didn’t know you were going to call.”

It’s surreal to see him again. He didn’t think he would, not like this anyway. Soobin’s mouth is suddenly dry, everything else dies down in his throat at the sight.

Yeonjun doesn’t look different. His hair is longer, almost past the top of his ears. There’s a weariness in the lines of his face. A dejection that smooths down his eyebrows and his lips.

He doesn’t look different. He looks tired.

“ _I should’ve said something first, I’m sorry. My bad,”_ he says, sitting upright. He’s looking straight at the screen, unmoving. It’s night in LA. The bed and the dorm in the background is unfamiliar to Soobin. He realizes he hasn’t seen his new room.

Soobin shakes his head automatically. “No, no,” his voice cracks. This is a dream. This is the start of a dream that he can’t ever let go. “That’s fine.”

There’s another pause, but the silence is filled with Yeonjun staring at the screen, like he’s taking it in. Soobin swallows the heavy lump, seeing his own part of the screen where Beomgyu’s shoulder is touching his. The pillow on his head. The double bed and different colored sheets.

“ _You’re not in your room,”_ Yeonjun says. It’s not a question.

“No,” Soobin shakes his head again. His mind is clouded, misty. “I’m in Beomgyu’s room.”

Yeonjun stares at him for a moment too long. Then the corner of his mouth tugs up, but the smile isn’t friendly, nor welcoming. It’s just there. A front.

“ _Why?_ ”

Soobin ignores how the stitches come undone, just a little. “We’re, uh, we’re in a relationship.”

“ _Oh,_ ” Yeonjun drags out the sound with a long nod, almost mechanical. “ _That’s great. I didn’t know.”_

He doesn’t understand why Yeonjun doesn’t sound happier. He wonders if it’s the almost one-year silence between them, the awkward air that’s been filling in the gaping space ever since. No one would know how to get back from that. Not even Yeonjun. Especially not Soobin.

He’s only getting okay with it. Something inside him splinters again the moment Yeonjun’s voice echoes.

“Yeah, thanks,” he says in a non-committal way. “Why do you call?”

Yeonjun laughs harshly, wiping his face with his hand. “ _Ah, about that, I just want to - you know, check in. Sorry I caught you at a bad time_.”

“It’s fine,” he reassures, stares at the shadow on Yeonjun’s face as he lies on his bed too. “I, uh, I’m glad you called.”

Soobin doesn’t ask him if this means a new start for the both of them. If the time apart was enough for Yeonjun. If they could, somehow, go back to being friends again.

Was it enough? Was the time enough?

“ _Really_?” Yeonjun croaks out, his voice hopeful. Soobin doesn’t understand why it lilts that way.

“Yeah, of course,” Soobin nods soothingly. It’s easy to melt to Yeonjun’s familiarity, his friendship still lingering. “How are you, Yeonjun?”

“ _It’s - hectic. I assume it’s the same for you,”_ Yeonjun chuckles, misplaced. _“It’s our last year in college.”_

Fourth year in their four years plan. Fourth year in Soobin’s waiting list. It’s almost over now. But he can’t figure out if it should mean anything now.

“Yeah, I can’t believe it’s been almost four years since you left for LA,” Soobin says scratchily. “You’re almost here, then.”

Yeonjun nods slowly, then shrugs. The smile is back again. “ _Yeah, it’s almost over._ ”

Soobin almost forgets that Beomgyu’s beside him if he didn’t move to face the other side of the bed. He glances briefly at his back before staring at Yeonjun again.

Yeonjun seems to get it, though. _“I’ll text you._ ”

“Okay,” he nods.

“ _Bye, Binnie,_ ” he says again. Soobin’s heard him say that before. “ _It was nice talking to you.”_

Soobin doesn’t think about it. He doesn’t think about it as it comes out of his mouth, all over again. “Bye, Yeonjun.”

The call ends, just like that, as if it never happened in the first place. The room comes alive again. He inhales sharply, bracing himself.

Soobin puts his chin on the bony part of Beomgyu’s shoulder. “Hey.”

Beomgyu stays quiet for a second before craning his head up to look at him. “I thought you guys weren’t talking.”

“We weren’t,” he says, sliding an arm around Beomgyu’s torso, pressing his closed eyes on his shoulder blades. “That was the first time he called after the fight.”

Beomgyu turns his body around so they’re face to face. His eyes are shining, lips parted. Hands on Soobin’s face.

“Yeah?” he asks again.

Soobin nods, heart thumping like the first time he ever touched him. “Yeah, promise.”

He smiles then, toothy, cheeks bunching up soft. “Missed you.”

“The call wasn’t even that long,” Soobin reminds him, but still warms as Beomgyu tangles their legs together.

_Not like that._

“Still missed you,” Beomgyu whispers.

Soobin smiles at him. “I know,” he says, aching differenly than he ever did.

*

**yeonjun**

_binnie hey_

_i just want to say sorry_

_for everything_

**me**

_it’s okay i understand_

_are you? are you okay with this now?_

**yeonjun**

_of course_

_just a little shocked honestly_

_didn’t expect beomgyu, of all people_

_but_

_i’m happy for you_

_of course i am_

**me**

_i didn’t expect him either_

_thanks though_

**yeonjun**

_don’t mention it binnie_

**me**

_i miss my best friend_

_i’m glad you’re here again_

**yeonjun**

_me too_

_i miss you_

_are we good?_

**me**

_yeah we’re good_

_hey_

**yeonjun**

_yeah?_

**me**

_you’re my best friend_

_that doesn’t change_

**yeonjun**

_haha yeah i know_

_of course i am_

*

Soobin realizes he loves Beomgyu when he’s twenty two.

It’s raining when the clarity comes and they’re just a few blocks away from Soobin’s house.

The rain arrives quietly - the soft splatters on his hair, then the road dampens, and Beomgyu laughs beside him. His eyes are gleaming again.

This is how it happens:

It’s raining, and they don’t bring an umbrella. 

Beomgyu is so close to him. He’s so close like this, their chests touching, and his voice is everywhere on his body. Beomgyu leans into him, his laugh rumbles as he puts both of his hands on top of Soobin’s head.

“Stupid,” Beomgyu says fondly, tiptoeing a little. “Next time bring an umbrella, stupid.”

Soobin realizes he’s shielding him from the rain. It doesn’t do anything because the rain pours, and Soobin still gets drenched to the bottom of his shoes. But Beomgyu is still holding him like this, so close.

Closer than the rain. Closer than the water clinging on his skin.

“Stupid,” Beomgyu says again.

Soobin feels more water on his clothes. “You don’t bring an umbrella, too,” he reminds him.

There’s something to learn about the way the rain keeps coming, but Beomgyu is still here in his arms. There’s something to learn about his wet eyelashes and how they stick to his cheeks, grounding. It conceals something he never understood.

Soobin’s chest tightens as his feelings grow. This is what it actually feels like to live in a mundane second, he thinks. This is what it feels like to be eternal in a singular moment.

This moment doesn’t hurt. It doesn’t hurt because Beomgyu still has his hands on top of his head, protecting him uselessly, dripping rain soaking his hair. Its stretching second is breathable.

He understands why nothing is supposed to last forever.

Because this temporary moment lets the next one come.

It moves on, the scene changes, and Beomgyu holds his hand and drags him to his house.

It moves on, the scene changes, and he is now inside of his room, laughing as their wet clothes meet in the middle, and Beomgyu slides his mouth clumsily against his.

He doesn’t mourn that it gets washed up in the shore - that look in Beomgyu’s eyes under the rain, the feeling of his hands on the top of his head. He doesn’t mourn that he can’t grasp that moment anymore - that wet feeling of rain on his body, that wet gravel underneath his shoes.

He doesn’t mourn, because he has _this_ now. His room, dimmed. Beomgyu’s hands, hovering.

Beomgyu reaches out for him, and his hands are fleeting but he knows they’re _supposed_ to be fleeting.

And like this, Soobin learns. Like this, he learns that his human moments are always meant to go.

In the dark, Beomgyu’s mouth is hot. He’s heating up, the rain seeping out of his body, and all he feels is Beomgyu’s heaving breaths and bearable warmth.

It was always supposed to feel like this.

*

Soobin cries as his house becomes a space of boxes.

It comes sinking in as the living room becomes devoid of life. It comes sinking in as he packs his room away, then his drawer is empty, then his bed isn’t enfold by his usual sheets anymore.

He tries not to think about it as he brings the last box downstairs, but everything comes in force as he realizes there’s no going back from this. This won’t be his home anymore. He won’t see the dining room again. He won’t see the spot on the couch where the sun hits brightest.

For the longest time, this house has been his safest world.

That’s the thing with Soobin’s life - he has to keep changing worlds. First, it was Yeonjun’s room that he hasn’t been in for four years. It was letting go of that. It was letting go of the boy, too. The pebbles on the way home. The bus stop at school that was ever a part of him, one day.

His little worlds, they’re all changing. He has to _move_. He _needs_ to move.

He can’t cherish everything - that’s what he was forced to learn. Sometimes he has one chance to feel it, sometimes he has one chance to live in it, and sometimes that’s all he gets.

Soobin strides quietly to his back porch. A lot happened here. Like a film reel, everything starts flashing back in his mind. Still overwhelmingly vivid, longing.

Yeonjun leaning back on the small step, eyes squinting against the sky. Books on his lap when they studied for Soobin’s open field. Laughters on the air that was everything to him once upon a time.

He sits cross-legged on the floor, pressing his temple on the railing. Takes in how it feels right now. Takes in how it feels to be here when he’s twenty-two. A moment in time he only has one chance to marvel.

His chest is heavy, eyes hot. All he knows is he wants to be in this spot tomorrow. And the day after. And the day, day, day after. All he knows is he doesn’t want to leave. That’s all there is to is, isn’t it?

Soobin stares at his phone, calls the only person on earth who could understand.

“ _Binnie, hey,_ ” his voice comes. Soobin breaks down a little more. “ _Hey, what’s up?”_

There’s something stuck in his throat. He opens his mouth, but a sob gets choked up instead.

A ruffling on the other side of the line. “ _Hey, you okay?_ ”

“Yeah,” Soobin manages to breathe, nodding to himself more than anything. “Sorry.”

“ _You okay?_ ” Yeonjun repeats worriedly, and Soobin nods for the second time. He does the math again like he used to. It’s been so long since he did that. 

“It’s empty,” Soobin says.

It’s almost midnight in LA. A few hours left until they exist in the same day again. Yeonjun used to crave for that.

“ _What is?_ ”

“The house,” he says, slides further down the small steps until there’s grass on the bottom of his shoes. “It’s empty now.”

It takes a couple seconds for Yeonjun to speak again. “ _What do you mean empty?_ ”

Soobin stares at the distance, worrying his lip before it could wobble. “We sold the house.”

“ _You sold the house?_ ”

“Yeah,” Soobin breathes, feels it deep in his chest. “There are so many boxes inside, I can’t bear looking at them.”

Yeonjun stays quiet for a long time it almost feels like the line is dead. It’s not though, because Soobin hears the air moving against the speaker.

“ _Where are you?_ ”

“The back porch.”

Yeonjun didn’t know they were selling the house, but he doesn’t ask further. Instead, his voices comes softly, a reminiscence. “ _I really like it there,”_ he starts, fondness in his voice that feels like an embrace. Something deep inside of him still wishes he was here. Or that he never left him at all. “ _It was always nice and warm. It gets too warm sometimes, though. I get really sweaty when the sun’s too hot and we’ve been studying for too long.”_

He’s missed this. He’s missed their calls, hearing his voice. More than anything, he just misses talking to him. His best friend. The last year felt unfilled, empty, mostly because of that.

Soobin laughs, his cheeks wet. “Yeah, I remember. You used to smell really bad.”

“ _Rude,_ ” Yeonjun laughs too, an easy thing. “ _What’s your favorite part of your house?_ ”

“My room,” Soobin admits quietly. It’s always been his favorite place. It’s quiet and safe. It’s where they usually stay in when Yeonjun comes over.

“ _I miss building forts with you_. _It was always so much fun._ ”

“Even when we mess it up and the fort ends up being wonky?”

“ _Yeah,_ ” Yeonjun agrees brightly. “ _Even then._ ”

It’s bizzare to think that Yeonjun is the only person in the world that understands. He’s the only one who feels the house the way he did. The same feeling of warmth. The same feeling of being stuck in a bed that was never meant for two.

Their shared experience, that can’t ever be replaced. Not with anyone else.

“ _Where are you moving to?”_

“It’s a nice house. Smaller,” Soobin tells him. “I don’t hate it, actually.”

“ _I’m going to miss your house, Binnie._ ”

He’s going to miss it too. More than he could form into words right now.

“I’m trying to find my own place,” Soobin mutters, ignoring how foreign that feels in his mouth. “Not sure when yet, but I’m going to move out soon.”

“ _That’s crazy,”_ Yeonjun lets out a breathy noise, unbelieving. “ _Feels like it was yesterday when I first flew to LA. Now we’re graduating soon, and you’re moving out._ ”

“You’re home soon, too,” Soobin lets it out. That’s always been a weight.

Yeonjun hasn’t been in this house for four years, and never again. Those four years are painstakingly long and hollowly fast at the same time. He doesn’t know how that is.

His silence is secretive, a double-edged sword. “ _Yeah_.”

Soobin breathes it in, the afternoon air. Revels in it, the afternoon sun. He stares at the patch of grass on the middle that little Yeonjun used to stand in, craning his head up to the sky. He takes it in, everything else, because he gets one chance, and that’s all he gets.

“What’s your favorite part of the house?”

Yeonjun doesn’t miss a beat. “ _Our spaceship,_ ” he says.

It aches to hear it from Yeonjun’s mouth. It’s always been his thing. Soobin has always been the one who got strung along with his adventures, seatbelts on as Yeonjun The Pilot maneuvers the ship to the edge of the universe. Something warms in the depth of his chest.

“ _Your headboard was our seats. The pillows were the console. I used to hold it up like a steering wheel. Do you remember?”_

Soobin nods again. “Yeah, of course.” Yeonjun had a blast back then. Spewing out nonsense terms, making up planets on the spot, the night’s light from the curtains help the illusion. They were in a middle of the vast universe where everything made sense.

The bed’s surface was always too soft. Their skin touch, elbows knocing each other as Yeonjun steers the spaceship recklessly. That’s the only indication they’re not really afloat somewhere in space.

“ _Remember when you got caught up in a black hole and I had to rescue you?_ ”

Soobin laughs, a sudden sound that he didn’t expect. “That was so stupid. I stayed under the bed.”

“ _Yeah,”_ Yeonjun giggles, and Soobin imagines him pressing his palm on top of his eyes as the giggle breaks out. “ _I felt genuinely sad because we were so into it, and I thought about how much I didn’t want to lose you._ ”

Yeonjun reached out for him under the bed with his hand as Soobin fumbled for it. He remembers when their hands were finally twined together, and Yeonjun pulled him into a hug.

 _Got you,_ he had said, eyes sparkling too bright.

Soobin didn’t say anything. He put his hands on Yeonjun’s shoulders and thought it was enough. He still thinks it was.

“ _You_ were so into it,” he says. “Dramatic.”

Yeonjun snorts. “ _Don’t act like you weren’t dramatic too. You were the one who suggested being under the bed for maximum immersion._ ”

“So the black hole is under my bed.”

Yeonjun bursts into a full laugh. “ _That sounds so stupid now._ ”

“We cracked the code to the mystery of the universe and didn’t even realize,” Soobin jokes.

“ _We did everything we could back then, Binnie,_ ” Yeonjun says seriously, voice soft. “ _I don’t think this is a sad goodbye.”_

That hits starkly against his chest. He sniffles one last time.

“You’re right,” he says, breathing a little better. “We had fun here, didn’t we?”

“ _We did. That matters most, you know._ ”

Yeonjun loves the house the way he does. These memories, that can’t ever be replaced.

Not with anyone else.

“I’m glad I spent it with you,” Soobin tells him honestly.

The silence after that isn’t oppressive. Yeonjun lets it hang in the air for a moment until he draws out the softest sight on the speaker, and Soobin knows that he’s still here. Even now.

Soobin hears Yeonjun smiles. “ _Me too, Binnie.”_


	4. first light

This is what he enjoys the most about being in a relationship: the innate need to _touch._ It’s nice when Beomgyu doesn’t say a word when he draws near, and then there’s skin on his, then a face on his, then a smile that never feels like a burden.

It doesn’t hurt that Beomgyu smells nice, looks nice, and makes him feel nice too.

“You see,” Beomgyu says with gleaming, curious eyes, when Soobin is leaning back against the headboard of his new temporary bed. Beomgyu leans closer to him, hot breath on his face. “I kind of want to see you everyday.”

There’s an easy air between them. They’ve both graduated, Soobin’s moved to the new, smaller house. He’s now in that time period where he doesn’t have to think about anything else yet, the euphoria of finishing college still lingering to his mood.

Soobin raises his eyebrow, holding on to the side of his body. “You already see me everyday.”

“Not enough,” Beomgyu grins sheepishly at him. “Want to see your face when I wake up.”

“You won’t get bored of it?” Soobin pulls him in, and Beomgyu comes.

“No,” he replies cheekily. “Which is why, I’m thinking, you know - since I’m looking for a place, and you’re too, we should just move in together?”

Soobin stares at him for a moment, gaze stuck in the way Beomgyu’s eyes are steady and sure. “Really?”

His lips are tugged in a hopeful smile, nods slowly. “Yeah. Do you maybe want that?”

“Oh my god,” Soobin breathes out in disbelief, stunned. “Oh my god, really?”

Beomgyu rolls his eyes fondly. “ _Yes_ , really.”

Soobin’s heart speeds as he realizes that this is monumental. Beomgyu wants to commit with him. He wants to settle - with _him_. They’ve always been serious, but this really seals the deal. This is real.

He tears up slightly, the feeling of being wanted a persistent force in his chest. “Okay, yeah,” he rushes out breathlessly. He’s overwhelmed by the way Beomgyu is holding his face with a little too much love. “Of course I want that.”

They’ve been together for a year now. Time flies when you love someone and they love you back.

“I know it’s fast,” Beomgyu says quickly, and Soobin smiles as he fumbles the words out. “But I just think it’s right? Why do we have to wait anymore?”

Soobin looks at Beomgyu for a moment, warm all over. “Yeah, I don’t want to wait too.”

“I love you,” it spills out of Beomgyu’s mouth easily. It’s always easy with Beomgyu - everything is. He bravely says it first. He always does.

Soobin smiles again. It doesn’t hurt. It doesn’t hurt. It doesn’t hurt.

“I love you too,” he says, and Beomgyu takes it away with a kiss.

They move in after that to a nice apartment that Beomgyu chose. Soobin especially likes the bedroom, it’s airy, the bed’s big enough for two, the curtains a warm gold. Beomgyu tugs softly at his neck on their first night in, and Soobin closes his eyes and let him linger.

He likes living with Beomgyu. He likes having him around all the time, his body always an arm-length away. He likes knowing that he’s _here_. Grounded to him, their apartment. He doesn’t need to stretch his hands out, doesn’t need to crane his head up to feel him. He likes that the most.

Beomgyu greets him home with a kiss. He plays with his hair. He touches his face tenderly before he goes to work, wishing him good luck as he leans in.

Soobin gets a job on a local school. Beomgyu still teaches piano to little kids as a part-time job. He doesn’t sing at the bar anymore, now mostly working in an office. It doesn’t really suit him but he looks good with a collared shirt, so Soobin doesn’t complain.

This is the most new, foreign thing about his life now. It’s not terrifying, just _new_. He actually enjoys the feeling of being in front of the class, and for once the noise doesn’t scare him. The first time is nerve-wrecking, but it gets better each day, and all over again it becomes a habit, and Soobin is okay. He’s okay. He’s doing good.

It only dawns on him then that this is the _real world_ he’s been scared of. The core of Yeonjun’s worry since he was seventeen. This is what everything has been leading up to it. _This_.

Soobin thought being twenty-two would feel overwhelmingly different somehow. Being twenty-two with an apartment and a boyfriend and a new job - he thought _this_ would feel different. That he would wake up, and his seventeen year old’s heart would shed, and something anew would rise.

Nothing is really different. His life is, everything else is, but he wakes up, and feels the same.

The only thing jarring is being away from home, but their apartment is _his_ home now. The dining table that sticks too close to the wall. The mirror by their bed that always fogs. Beomgyu’s legs tangling with his after a long day. His laugh against his chest.

He wakes up, and feels the same.

His seventeen year old’s heart. It’s still the same, even now.

Then Yeonjun’s four-year contract with LA ends, and Soobin picks him up at the airport.

It’s been two years since his trip to LA where everything fell apart. They’ve done a good job sticking the pieces back together, trying to adapt to who they were before all of that.

They’ve done a good job ignorning it, too. No one dares to talk about it. Soobin wouldn’t know how to either.

Bottom line is this: Soobin’s moved on, and Yeonjun has always been clear to what he wanted anyway. It’s a done deal. It already has an ending.

At the airport, Soobin sees Yeonjun on the horizon. A little further past the gates.

He’s still bright when he’s unaware of Soobin’s presence just a few meters away, eyes searching through the crowd. He’s still bright as his hair flops down his forehead and he looks tired from the flight.

When Yeonjun finally spots him, a smiles grows, slowly, ever so slightly shakes as their gaze meets and locks.

The smile is _there_ , easy. The most simple thing.

Yeonjun doesn’t run. He doesn’t run, but he walks to him patiently. Every steps are deliberate and careful, and when he stands in front of him, his smile stays. Frozen in time.

“Hey,” he says quietly.

Soobin holds his breath. “Hey.”

Yeonjun looks older. It’s almost nothing to do with how he looks. He hasn’t grown an inch taller, still stuck on Soobin’s brow bone, peering up at him. Just how he’s always been to him.

His bangs are longer, hair peeking out behind his ears. There’s a different air that he carries. Resolution in the lines of his face. Acceptance too.

And - he’s just Yeonjun. _God_ , he’s just Yeonjun.

They have been apart for four years, but he’s still just Yeonjun to him. His best friend in the entire world.

That hasn’t changed.

“Hey, Binnie,” he says again, softer.

His gaze is tender, like there’s no point in it. No reason to be tethered to Soobin, but it still is _._

“Hey,” he says again too. “You look like shit.”

Yeonjun laughs, eyes widen a little. “Damn. Just when I landed?”

Soobin takes the suitcase from him. “How was the flight?”

“A pain, really,” Yeonjun huffs, tailing him. He puts the hoodie up his head and pulls the sleeves forward until his hands are hidden. “Didn’t recall the flight being hell like that.”

They scurry inside Soobin’s car. It’s sound-proof here, Yeonjun’s slow intakes of breath the only thing blaring.

He’s staring at him. In here, Yeonjun is hooded by light. A string of sunlight on his skin.

Soobin can’t feel his hands. Everything is rushing in again. The numbed pain. Obnoxious music plays faintly on the back of his skull, where he can’t hear but feel it rising.

“I can’t believe I’m here,” Yeonjun exhales dazedly.

Soobin can’t either. It feels like a dream to see him like this but there’s no time limit. It only dawns on him then that he’s not going anywhere.

He’s forgotten how it feels to have him without being scared of the time running out, but he has him back now. For real.

“Are you hungry?” Soobin asks distractedly, starting the car as he focuses himself on the road.

Yeonjun hums, slumping back against the chair. He puts the seatbelt on and sighs dreamily. “Yeah, could eat a grown horse or something. Could sleep for two days too.”

Soobin laughs, the steering wheel inexplicably hot. “Let’s get you both.”

He parks the car on Yeonjun’s house. He hasn’t been here properly since four years ago on Yeonjun’s last night, their bodies under the fort.

Soobin stays back as Yeonjun greets his parents, arms wide open to welcome them with happiness so strong it’s infectious. They must be really proud of him, he thinks. He’s proud of him too.

Mrs. Choi prepares lunch. Soobin helps her arrange the plates and the food on the table.

It’s been a long while since he felt this. A calm family dinner where Yeonjun’s parents string him along to the conversation, as though he was apart of this essemble. This is what it’s always been. Nice to know this hasn’t changed too.

It brings back nostalgia, this brightly-lit dining room. He doesn’t think about it because his stomach is warm and their laughs bind together on the air. His eyes open a tad wider, his heart soars higher.

They finish lunch and head upstairs. His heart thumps out of anticipation, even from something this small. This insignificant. It’s never like that for him, though.

“Ah,” Yeonjun sighs loudly when he opens the door to his room. Soobin sticks close to him by the doorframe.

His room looks just the same as it did back then. Nothing’s out of place. The bed’s still glued to the wall. It’s empty, though, no sheets, no pillows.

Yeonjun dives headfirst and nestles the cushion with his cheek. “God,” he breathes against it. “I missed you.”

“Gross,” Soobin chuckles lowly, sitting on the edge. “You’re hugging a bed that hasn’t been graced with a human touch for four years.”

He snorts offendedly before moving and lying on the side. “Am I not allowed to miss my own bed?”

Soobin smiles a little at that. “No, your bed sucks.”

“It doesn’t,” Yeonjun takes offense to that, then slides himself up to lean against the headboard. “Why is my bed always small wherever I go?”

“We promised to give you a bigger bed,” he says quietly, still remembers their conversation the night of graduation. “You’ll have a bigger bed in your new place here. Have you found one you like already?”

Yeonjun only shrugs, brushing the hair on his forehead. He’s staring at him without a word, then the invisible wall crumbles, and he finally lets it out. “How are you, Binnie?”

They haven’t been talking a lot. Not like they used to. It’s difficult to forget what happened between them, even when they’re trying their best to bury it in the past. Even when they’re doing a good job, it doesn’t mean it’s completely erased.

Soobin’s once upon a time love. Yeonjun’s first, twice rejection. That stays.

Yeonjun didn’t really call him anymore. Not like he used to, not with his intentional alarms. They text sometimes, but that’s all they’ve been doing.

It’s such a simple question. _How are you?_ It means: _what have you been up to while I was gone?_

Soobin allows a scratchy laugh out of his mouth. Everything unsaid has always become another distance between them. Everything voiceless, that’s another sign of a love that has strayed too far.

This friendship, though. This childhood bedroom. The sun on Yeonjun’s sunny gaze.

This has always stayed.

“I’m okay, Yeonjun,” he says simply, nods. What else is he supposed to say? Everything’s already changed anyway.

“Beomgyu’s treating you good?”

Soobin bites his bottom lip, stings unnecessarily. “Yeah,” he admits, turning his head to meet his eyes. Something sinks there. “He’s really good to me, Yeonjun.”

“Okay,” he nods softly, relieved. “I’m happy for you.”

“I know you are,” Soobin swallows the lump. He wants to assure him that he doesn’t have to be afraid of it anymore. _He’s moved on. He has._ “Thanks.”

“Yeah,” Yeonjun smiles too genuinely for it to feel plain. “Of course, Binnie.”

Soobin pats the bed absentmindedly. “Are you still tired? Do you want to sleep?”

“Nah, not really,” Yeonjun shakes his head, his hair bunching up a little as it moves on the headboard. “Are you tired?”

“No.”

“Okay.”

They end up sitting on the front of Yeonjun’s house, shoes on the pavement. It’s a mirror to Yeonjun’s drawing in fifth grade. He can see his old house on his peripheral.

Soobin folds his legs. Yeonjun stretches them out.

His hand is on top of his lap, clenched. It’s not open.

“What do you miss the most about high school?” Yeonjun asks suddenly, angling to him a little.

He stares at the bumps of Yeonjun’s knuckles. “You know the atmosphere right before school ends? That exciting rush, how you just can’t wait to go home? The last minutes of the last class, and the sky is always dark. I miss that feeling, I think.”

Yeonjun opens his palm up, splaying it on his own thigh. “I know what you mean. You can’t get that feeling ever again.”

“No,” Soobin shakes his head, sighs as Yeonjun fingers move in a familiar way. “I miss the library too. I studied really hard for LA, but in the end it didn’t matter,” he looks at him. “Because you got in.”

“Yeah.”

“I’m proud of you for that, by the way,” Soobin tells him sincerely, out loud for the first time. “I don’t think I’ve ever told you.”

Yeonjun’s hand shakes quietly. “I’m proud of you too. Do you know?”

“You don’t say it a lot,” Soobin mutters sheepishly, skin tingling.

“Well,” he purses his lips, a smile breaking out. “I’m proud of you, Binnie.”

They’ve come such a long way. He remembers his silly tantrum when the letters came, but they made up the next day on these streets, heat on each other when the distance wasn’t tangible like this.

He wants to think that the fight in LA wasn’t permanent damage. There are still broken parts, scars that are mending, but he’s still here, isn’t he? They’re still here. They’re still friends. The damage isn’t permanent.

Nothing’s permanent.

“How about dinner?” he offers, crossing the bridge. “Dinner later this week? At my place?”

Yeonjun’s hand stops completely now. “Sure,” he says, then adds: “I’d love that.”

Soobin remains beside him until the sun gets distorted and the sky darkens with a tinge of purple. Yeonjun doesn’t move away either. His palm is still open.

*

Beomgyu invites Kai for dinner.

He arrives early to help him prepare the food per Beomgyu’s request, pressing close to him as they perch down the stove. Beomgyu doesn’t want him to help because he’ll ruin it, so Soobin happily takes a seat on the dining table, watching them quietly bicker and argue about the recipe.

Huening Kai grows faster than anyone else. Soobin used to have at least five centimeters on him, now he towers over him, that Soobin has to peer up at him, just a little, to look at him properly.

Aside from that, he hasn’t changed much.

He still exudes that cheeriness he retained in high school. The wide smile. How he throws his head back when he laughs, and his eyes still shine the way they always did when Yeonjun was in love with him.

Kai is still frustratingly perfect. Beomgyu is still softly spoken, pretty in all the right ways. Soobin is still Soobin.

He doesn’t know what to expect when they all gather here again, so long after high school. He’d like to think that they haven’t lost that child-like charm, curiosity in how they approach life, dejection in accepting the hurdles too. He’d like to think they’re different people now, but it’s still there, whatever they had that made them young.

He wants to believe that.

There’s a knock on the door, and a text on his phone. Just a brief _hey, i’m knocking on your door. or at least i hope it is. please confirm soon i don’t want to barge on an innocent’s person door this is embarrassing._

“Babe, please take the door,” Beomgyu calls, but Soobin is already up to his feet.

Yeonjun looks fresh. He’s dressed casually, blazer on a simple shirt, dark jeans around his legs. His hair is parted in the middle, bangs all down to his cheeks.

It’s only been a week since they last met on the airport. Yeonjun’s been spending a lot of time with his family, he knows that because he texts him updates everyday. A little ironic that they’re texting more now that he’s back in Seoul.

“Welcome,” Soobin greets, smiling tight. “Fortunately, it _is_ my door.”

Yeonjun raises his brow at that, his lips tugged in a grin. “Thank god,” he sighs. “Hi, Binnie.”

The air is quite strangling. He cracks a smile back. “Hey, Yeonjun.”

His grin spreads wider as he strides past him. “That smells good,” he says in lieu of greeting. Huening Kai immediately perks his head up at his voice.

“Wow, you look great,” Kai compliments breathlessly, coming over to give Yeonjun a long hug. “Wow, you look great,” he repeats as he leans back to take another look at him, and Yeonjun laughs.

“Thanks, I like hearing that,” he says, satisfied. “You look great too. How did you get so tall?”

Soobin stares at they meet again after so long, their stinging laughs still echo, bouncing through the apartment. This feels like a scene in the library where Yeonjun left him to be with Kai, and Soobin saw Beomgyu for the first time.

This is almost exactly like that.

He peeks to the stove, watches the food in the making. Props his chin on Beomgyu’s shoulder that makes him laugh.

“Looks good,” he hums.

Beomgyu kisses his cheek. “Thanks,” he says. “It’s almost done.”

The dinner is comfortably nostalgic. It isn’t the hurt that he’s used to, talking about the past. They’re recalling their high school memories fondly, with laughter and a happy feeling. Kai stutters his words together as a particular memory pops in his head, and he’s rushing it out before it’s gone. Yeonjun munches on his food seriously, and his shoulders shake and break as he laughs. Beomgyu laughs the loudest, rings the most.

He finds it heartwarming that they weren’t the closest of friends, but such a trivial place like school brings them together like this again, four years later. Stories no one else knows. Gossips no one else heard.

It’s bizzare what a few years can do to you. They’re all just happy to see each other now.

He would be lying if he said it isn’t a little strange to see Kai and Yeonjun together under the same light. They’ve always been his most painful picture. The way Kai still clings closest to him, eyes stuck to the way Yeonjun angles his body to him when they talk back-and-forth, while Soobin and Beomgyu become a plain watcher.

Maybe Yeonjun’s right. That’s how first loves last, you always feel it.

Yeonjun and Kai catch up a lot more after dinner. They cram on the sofa while Beomgyu sits close to him on the other side, and the night dwindles to a lulling feel. Beomgyu touches him quietly, secretly, soft grazes that simply means _I’m here._

They end up watching a random movie from Netflix a little late to the night. Still in the same positions, Soobin’s head dizzyingly comfortable. He leans to Beomgyu’s shoulder as the scenes play out.

Beomgyu falls asleep halfway, and Kai actually snores as his head lays to the back of the sofa rigidly. Soobin catches him slipping out of his unconsciousness a few times before finally resorting to sleep.

Yeonjun gives him a look. “How are they so in sync?”

Soobin moves his head up so Beomgyu won’t get disturbed. “They do this a lot when we hang out.”

“That’s crazy,” Yeonjun whispers. “Kinda like you and I.”

The apartment is too quiet for both of them. The television is still on, the movie’s blaring sound bouncing through the walls, but Soobin purses his lips, stares at Yeonjun in the eyes.

“Yeah,” he ends up nodding, smiles through the tight line of his mouth.

Yeonjun stands up and comes over to the sliding door of the balcony. He peers up interestingly at it. “May I?”

“Go ahead,” Soobin follows him, leaving the living room’s ambience behind.

It isn’t a huge space. Soobin comes here when his days stretch too long and his legs feel like wobbling sticks. The view down there feels suffocating sometimes, but it’s always rewarding to see the blinking lights. Infinitely smaller than he is.

“Wah, this is nice,” Yeonjun breathes out astoundedly. He crosses his arms as he leans forward to the railing, gazing quietly at the city.

“You like it?”

“Yeah, this is great,” he props his cheek with a palm, then turns his head to face Soobin. There’s a barely-there smile on his lips. He can’t read what it means. Too speculative. Shapeless.

Yeonjun looks twenty-two like this. There’s no light on his face, just the shimmer of the city’s shadow. He looks twenty-two like this, when he’s looking straightly at him but Soobin can’t figure what the hell it means.

“You have a nice place, Binnie,” he whispers it out.

Soobin worries the inside of his cheeks until everything numbs. “He chose it,” he tells him.

“Makes perfect sense,” Yeonjun giggles, still like daggers. “You have no taste whatsoever.”

The empty jab makes him smile. “I’m very lucky then,” he says.

“You are. He’s great, by the way. The food’s great. You guys look,” Yeonjun pauses to shrug, but it looks awkward and inattentive. He sounds honest despite that. “You guys look great too.”

“I know,” Soobin nods earnestly.

Yeonjun is still the most loved boy he’s ever known.

“So,” he begins, staring at how the city is moving, but the night has become a still scene. “When are you going to move out? Have you found a place yet?”

Yeonjun is suspiciously silent. He has his eyes on the sky. It tells him more than his voice.

“I’m not staying,” he confesses.

Soobin turns himself to him, but Yeonjun is still staring right ahead. “What?”

“I’m not staying, Binnie,” he repeats quietly, not looking at him. “I’m going back to LA after this.”

His sight tunnels, tongue-tied in the most cruel way. He backs away from him like he did in his room when he first rejected him and the distance felt safer.

“I applied for a master’s degree,” he explains further, meeting his eyes. It’s an estranged gaze.

Soobin doesn’t understand. The words don’t register in his mind. He knows what he means, _he knows,_ but it doesn’t make any sense -

“I can’t stay here,” he whispers ghostly. “There’s nothing for me here, Binnie,” then he brushes the hair on his forehead, chuckles hollowly when their eyes meet. “I think I still need time, I’m sorry.”

“I thought we were good,” Soobin blurts out defensively, his hands trembling. That’s what he said when he cut him off for almost a year. Is Yeonjun so repulsed by him that he _needs_ to go? That he can’t bear the thought of them being in the same place anymore? He’s _moved_ on, he _has -_

“It’s not about you,” he interrupts his train of thought harshly, but his gaze is consoling. Like he’s tending a wound. Like he’s stiching it back up. “It’s not about you. You have made a home here, I see that. I’m _so_ happy for you. We’re good, Binnie, I promise, but I just - _can’t_ stay. Not now anyway.”

Soobin sucks in a breath. “Why?”

“You know why,” Yeonjun whispers quietly. It resonates like heartbreak. “ _You know why,_ ” he repeats.

Soobin shakes his head hard enough to hurt, teeth delve deep on his bottom lip. “No, I don’t know,” he forces out. This has always been the problem with Yeonjun - he speaks in codes, he doesn’t understand _any_ of it. “Why can’t you stay?”

Yeonjun looks tired. He looks the most tired he’s been in his life. It’s not from the flight. Not the jet leg either. This dejection is painted all over his frame, making him look desperately worn-out.

“It’s not about you, I _promise_ ,” Yeonjun reassures, voice cracking. He sighs wearily, shoulders slumping in resolution. “There are other things but - I do want to study again. That’s it.”

Soobin grips the railing harder. He doesn’t know how to tell him that he selfishly wants him to stay.

“It’s shorter this time,” Yeonjun offers him a weak grin, but his eyes say something else.

Yeonjun’s not rejecting him now, but it stings like he is. Why should it matter anyway? It doesn’t matter.

He’s just a little shocked, that’s all. He only needs to calm down, and this won’t hurt. This won’t hurt like the last four years. “Okay,” Soobin says when his irrationality dies down. “Okay, sorry.”

Yeonjun is still spreading his horizon. He’s thriving. Soobin’s glad that he is, even though it doesn’t lessen. Everything else, how his throat closes up unwillingly, his knuckles aching like they’re bruised. It doesn’t lessen, what’s been hurting the most, it doesn’t really lessen. Time doesn’t heal. It just numbs what’s throbbing. Stacks it with something else that burns more.

Yeonjun’s his best friend, this is something big. He knows that.

“If that’s what you want, then that’s good,” he starts, can’t help but be tender. “I’m happy for you.”

That’s what they’ve been to each other lately. Constantly being happy for each other. It’s not a bad thing. Something’s just a little askew, missing. Soobin doesn’t know what it is.

“Proud of you,” he rushes to say, wants to make sure that he says it early this time.

Yeonjun’s smile appears again. Soobin gulps it down. “I’m proud of you too.”

He laughs it off before he could do something stupid like cry in this small balcony. “Stop,” he flinches, and Yeonjun throws his head back in a shuddering laugh. “We’re proud of each other, that’s good. Let’s not say it again until we discover something big, like, the cure of cancer or something.”

“Deal,” Yeonjun grins shakily.

Soobin just had him back. The countdown starts again as Yeonjun looks down at the city, and he looks human. Nothing about Yeonjun right now is bigger than himself.

“Thanks for dinner,” he tells him, voice too soft for something as simple as dinner.

Soobin stares at the city too. The lights are bright, but they never blinded him. “Yeah, no problem,” he says.

They stay in the balcony. No one says anything anymore - no one has to. Yeonjun’s leaving again, Soobin’s moved on, and that’s all there is to it. The quiteness feels like closure. More like understanding now.

Yeonjun slides the door back when the air gets too chilly, and he slowly wakes Kai up when he goes inside. Soobin moves to brush Beomgyu’s cheeks, eyes finally opening up as he regains his consciousness back. He lets him know that the guests are leaving.

Kai is already out of the apartment when they bid their goodbyes, but Yeonjun stays for a moment at the doorway, looking at Soobin with something he still can’t understand.

“Bye, Binnie,” he says quietly. He knows this too well.

In the end, Soobin is still Soobin. That hasn’t changed either.

*

**yeonjun**

_hey i’m leaving to the airport in a few_

**me**

_have a safe flight_

_sorry i can’t take you there_

**yeonjun**

_it’s fine_

_it’s better this way anyway_

_*_

Beomgyu plans a surprise birthday party for him.

It’s not like Soobin didn’t suspect it. Beomgyu gets giggly when he lies, and he’s been blushing a lot lately, even when Soobin doesn’t do anything. At first he only raises a brow, then his suspicion grows when he realizes the fifth is approaching soon. He doesn’t exactly figure out what he’s going to do, but he knows it has something to do with his birthday.

The apartment’s unrealistically pitch black in this hour. He just got home, and he knows Beomgyu _should_ still be in his office. He never shuts off the lights off fully like this, someone must’ve been here to turn them off.

He’s struck with a sudden fear that someone broke into the apartment before the room finally explodes in bright lights, confettis, and an array of screams that jolt him in surprise. He blinks as the room comes in view, adjusting to the sudden light, then he sees Beomgyu walking over to him with happy eyes.

“Happy birthday, you,” he smiles at him, then leans in to kiss his lips. “Were you surprised?”

Soobin’s heart is still beating harshly, so he takes Beomgyu’s hand and presses his palm on his chest. “Yeah, definitely,” he breathes, overwhelmed.

It’s not a big party or anything, the apartment’s loosely decorated. He knows he’s not a kid anymore, he doesn’t need anything flashy anyway. But he sees the effort, sees that despite the execution, it must have taken time. There are stickers on the wall on top of the sofa that spells his name with a heart. Colorful balloons, some floating on the ceiling.

He knows he’s not a kid anymore because he knows he’ll be the one cleaning up all the mess anyway when the guests are home.

The _guests_ are only Taehyun and Kai, whose presence he just notices when they stride over to him with big smiles. Taehyun hugs him and wishes him happy birthday, promises to treat him to a nice meal tomorrow, just like he always does. Kai pats his back and gives him a thumbs up.

There’s a cake on the middle of the dining table and a whole lot of Soobin’s favorite food surrounding it. Beomgyu pulls the chair for him and holds his face, kissing him on the cheek. Soobin barely feels it on his skin.

After dinner, Beomgyu cuts the cake and gives each a slice to the guests.

“I like it,” Taehyun says, distant in Soobin’s ears.

He doesn’t think he registers Beomgyu’s answer. Kai’s mouth opens, but he can’t hear his voice.

There’s something slightly out of ordinary in the air. He can’t pinpoint exactly what it is. There’s something off-putting about about the way Beomgyu laughs, just a volume too high. An uncomfortable feeling as Taehyun licks the frosting off the cake, and it reminds him of something he can’t remember.

Beomgyu’s left sleeve is a tad longer than his right. Kai looks too hued under the ceiling’s light.

The apartment tilts a little wrongly.

“Open your mouth,” Beomgyu shoves a spoon to his face.

Soobin stares at him, eyes unfocused. He takes the cake in. The sweetness isn’t vivid.

Beomgyu tangles with him when the apartment’s back to being theirs and the bed is too big for two. He’s everywhere at once, he’s tangible and solid, and Soobin breathes him in. Takes him in - the sharp edge of his jaw, how he touches his shoulder with an urgency only he knows, the telltale of a confession on the tip of his mouth when he crushes their lips together.

It’s always _I love you._

It’s never more than that. It’s always something he can handle.

 _I love you, Soobin_ , and he always knows what to answer it with. It’s always _I love you too_ , because he does, and it’s easy, painless, always simple. Always something he can bear.

It’s not that today.

“My first,” Beomgyu whispers it on his skin, hovering lips on his collarbone. He’s holding him. He’s holding him, he realizes, because he knows he would fall apart if he doesn’t. “You’re my first love, Soobin.”

Soobin hitches a breath as he plants a kiss on the bones of his cheeks, so tender it doesn’t feel real. His hands are pressed on the back of his head, those calloused fingers on his scalp.

He knows them. He knows him.

“I’m so lucky,” he kisses those words on him again. Honest, he’s always been so unbelievably honest. “I’m so lucky to love you.”

Soobin’s mind goes blank for a moment. All his limbs are rigid, motionless. His heart too.

Like a scar, it opens. The stitches have never been done.

Beomgyu stares at him when they’re face to face and the room’s too dark to see, shadows on each other’s body. He’s staring at him, and even when the lights are pale, Soobin knows that gaze.

It’s not _I love you_ today. It’s more than that. More than Soobin could ever handle.

“I’ve wanted you since high school,” Beomgyu says quietly, leaning closer to him. Thumbs at his dimple. Laughs a little to the air between them.

Soobin bites his lip, fumbles around to touch his face. Touches him where he can reach.

“I still can’t believe I have you now,” Beomgyu bares it open.

He doesn’t say anything. He lets him - because that’s what does. He lets him. That’s how he loves him back.

But this is more than that. The way Beomgyu’s looking at him now, this is more than that. Soobin doesn’t know how to deal with it.

Soobin hides his face on his arm where he knows he’s safe, coming to his hold. Beomgyu brushes his hair back and presses a kiss on his temple. “Love you,” he whispers slowly, still the easiest thing.

“I love you too,” he says it back. He always has.

*

_Happy birthday, birthday boy. Congrats on being twenty-three._

*

Soobin doesn’t bring an umbrella.

The grocery store isn’t that far from the apartment so he walks by foot. It’s already dark then but he ignores it, thinking it would be a short trip anyway. What a joke that when he goes out, the rain is a relentless force as he squints at the wet sky.

He runs. The water pours on his clothes, soaking onto his skin, but he doesn’t think about it as he passes the crowd, clutching the grocery bag on his hand.

Soobin huffs a breath as he reaches the apartment, heaving when he opens the door and Beomgyu is sitting at the dining table, eyes already on him.

“Fuck,” Beomgyu curses when he sees him, wholly wet, dripping to the floor.

“I know, I know, I’m sorry - ” Soobin takes off his jacket, teeth chattering as the cold starts to really seep in. He strides over to the bathroom, Beomgyu’s steps behind him.

“Didn’t I always tell you to bring an umbrella - ”

“I didn’t think it would rain - ”

Beomgyu takes the towel from the hanger and puts it on top of his head, ruffling his air almost indignantly. “Yeah well, now you’re wet, aren’t you,” he raises a brow at him, voice heavy.

Soobin winces apologetically. “Sorry,” he says. “Got you your favorite snacks though.”

Beomgyu shakes his head, sighs fondly despite his annoyance. “Stupid.”

His toes shiver, chilly to the back of his neck. “Sorry.”

“Take a warm shower,” Beomgyu tells him, pats him quickly on the cheek. “I’ll make you ramyeon, okay?”

Soobin grits his teeth together and gives him a weak thumbs up. “Okay, thanks.”

He takes the time on the shower until his fingers stop shaking and his lips don’t feel as numb anymore. He’s struggling with his clothes when his phone rings on the bed, vibrating against the sheets.

It’s Yeonjun.

He accepts the call, worries if something’s wrong. They talk with voice notes now; texts when there’s no time to spare. Yeonjun doesn’t call him anymore.

So this is out of the blue.

“ _Hey,”_ his voice comes.

Soobin involuntarily stops what he’s doing, dazedly sitting by the edge of the bed as he presses the phone close to his ear. The rain is louder now, a deafening rumble.

“Hey,” he answers confusedly. It’s very late in LA. “What’s up?”

“ _Sorry,_ ” Yeonjun lets out a small, awkward laugh. “ _Are you busy_?”

“Not really,” Soobin scoots further to the middle of the bed, folding his cold legs underneath him. “Why?”

“ _What are you doing right now?”_

He splays his palm on the warm sheet, feeling the rain slowly dissipate from his body. “I got stuck in the rain,” he tells him. “Just got back home.”

“ _Are you warm now?_ ”

Soobin clams his lips together, nods. Yeonjun’s voice is an old story.

“Yeah,” he gulps it down. “I ran just in time before the rain became heavy. Beomgyu’s making me ramyeon, so.”

“ _Oh okay_ ,” Yeonjun whispers softly. “ _Sorry, I’ll let you get back to it then._ ”

“Why did you call?”

There’s a pause after that. So long that Soobin thinks he hangs up on him.

“ _Sorry,_ ” he repeats, not answering. “ _Bye, Binnie_.” Then he really hangs up. Soobin stares at his phone for a moment before realizing that the line is already dead.

He wonders why he called, brief and unannounced like that. Especially when he never does that anymore. Wonders why he sounded frail, can’t help but remember when Yeonjun told him he wasn’t happy in LA, but he still chose to go back.

_There’s nothing for me here, Binnie._

Soobin stays still until his body stops thrumming. He doesn’t know why it still reacts to Yeonjun like this. He doesn’t know why there’s still a leftover ache deep inside of him that he can’t get rid of. His hands tingle, incredibly warm. His chest too. The walls of the room disappear for a second, and it’s not raining, and it’s not the evening. It’s a starry night, an eighteenth birthday gift. A telescope, the engraved initials still etched on his fingertips. He wonders if they were ever supposed to be permanent.

When he goes out of the room, the whole apartment is brimming, echoey. The ramyeon is steaming warm in a bowl on the table, the heat piercing his skin. He isn’t cold anymore, no longer shivering. The sky is still present. The rain hasn’t stopped.

“Thank you,” he says quietly, peering at Beomgyu.

Beomgyu pulls the chair and sits across from him. He looks like he’s thinking, hands fidgety. The look he’s fixing him with is contemplative, but steadily sure. “Was it Yeonjun?”

Soobin plays with the spoon and the fork, cringes when they knock together. “What?”

He points to their room, the door ajar. “You were talking to Yeonjun?”

“Yeah,” he nods.

“Why did he call?”

“He didn’t say,” Soobin holds the bowl with his whole palms until he fully covers it. Tainted on him.

Beomgyu looks at him. His gaze is heavier than usual. Conflicted as his lips tug in a worried line, but Soobin can only meet his eyes back.

“Are you sure?”

Soobin’s forehead creases. “Of course.”

“Okay,” he says decidedly then, flashing him a quick smile before coming over to him and brushing his hair back. Soobin looks up at him, chest tightening at the tender way he’s touching him, the warmth in his eyes still.

Beomgyu presses a long kiss on his temple, then another on his forehead. It’s against his skin, his whisper: “Eat well, okay? Don’t want you to get sick.”

Soobin numbly nods, feeling the trace of his lips even after he goes back to his seat wordlessly. Beomgyu doesn’t look at him again after that.

*

_Had a date in awhile. She was nice. Her front teeth peek a little when she talks, it’s cute. Want to try it out with her or something, I don’t know. Maybe if she likes me enough._

_*_

_That’s great, Yeonjun. Sorry I’m just getting back to you, have been super busy lately. How’s it going with her?_

_*_

_Went on a second date. She’s really cool, I like her. But I don’t think I could see myself with her. It’s hard opening up, huh? I’m afraid of this sometimes. Like I’m willing myself up for another heartbreak._

_*_

Soobin dwells on that: _another_. He can’t figure out who he’s talking about.

_I understand. I hope you find what you’re looking for, Yeonjun._

*

_I went out with Jack again. You remember him? He texted me, started flirting with me, and somehow I ended up in his room. He has a job and everything now, kinda cool actually. Might like him again._

_*_

Soobin remembers not liking Jack.

_Yeah? Are you official now?_

*

Yeonjun snorts at the start of the voice note, so loud that the sound gets slightly distorted.

_Pfft, no. Of course not. I think he doesn’t want that. You know, anything serious. We were barely dating back then too. It’s fine though, it’s not like I want that either. It’s fine._

_*_

Soobin plays it over again, then he speaks, just a short: _Okay. If that’s what you want._

*

_Told Jack I wanted to be an astronaut, that I still do maybe now. He laughed at my face. Should’ve known he was a loser._

*

Soobin actually gets pissed off by that.

_Do you want me to take care of him? I can fight him just fine. I’m tall, I have long limbs._

_*_

_Please don’t, you’re scarily oblivious with your own strength. And don’t worry about it, I cut him off. I’ll find someone else who wouldn’t laugh at me._

_*_

**me**

_it’s valentine’s day_

_are you going out?_

_sorry i’m at the grocery store right now_

_can’t send you my voice_

**yeonjun**

_it’s fine don’t worry_

_and no i’ll be at my dorm_

_gonna watch interstellar or something until i ugly cry_

_you have plans?_

**me**

_yeah_

_i’m bringing beomgyu to the beach_

_i hope he likes it_

**yeonjun**

_cool_

_have fun, binnie_

**me**

_i will_

_thanks_

*

_Heard it’s Beomgyu’s birthday today. Tell him I said hi. I hope you guys eat something delicious._

*

_We did. Thanks for the birthday wish. How was your day?_

_*_

_Mine’s the usual. I have a deadline tomorrow, have to cram this tonight. I, uh, I hope he’s still treating you well._

_*_

Sometimes Yeonjun would ask for it in a text: _can you send me your voice?_

Soobin stares at the outstretched city’s lights below. The balcony’s always nice at night - the wind’s a comfortable weight, the railing sticks to the lines of his arms, elbow knocking on its metallic taste. He has his phone on his hand, fingers around it tightly as he presses the small recording button on the corner of their chat room.

“Hey, sorry I’m just getting back at you,” Soobin starts quietly, mouth close to the speaker. He bites his lip, trying to find words to say, but it’s always easier like this, when he can’t see him. Yeonjun’s on the other side of the world, he’ll take his time. “I hope you slept well when you receive this. It’s nine here. You’re probably snoring right now. I hope you are.”

The stretch of time when they exist in the same day. They’re still living in the same day right now. Yeonjun’s sky is brighter than his, just a hue more golden. Still the same day, though. Not in a chase anymore.

It’s appalling how much he’s gotten used to this. Only fragments of Yeonjun, never the whole thing. That’s always been the case since they were seventeen.

Of course he’s used to it.

“I had an okay day today. Tiring, but okay,” he goes on, propping his chin on his palm, pondering. “It reminds me of how much high school used to feel like this too.”

Soobin blinks his eyes, once, twice, until it goes away. An ache that’s still pulsing. He doesn’t know what he’s missing. He doesn’t know what’s missing either.

“I hope LA is kind to you, Yeonjun,” he says, too honest than he intended. He brushes past it because he means it anyway. He hopes it rains more there. He hopes the walls in his room aren’t suffocating. He hopes that the edge of his bed isn’t too sharp so it won’t hurt when he accidentally bumps onto it. “Just - I just wish you’re having fun.”

The silence expands for a beat too long. It used to be easy, decipherable. Yeonjun used to read his mind. Soobin used to know what he means by a touch of his hand.

Yeonjun doesn’t see right through him like that anymore.

So lets him know what the silence means, opening his mouth. “Good morning then,” he says quietly, a message to the future when Yeonjun finally wakes up to hear his voice. “Bye.”

The city’s noise is always louder than anything else, even when it exists far below. He was always been scared of noise, crowds. A liveliness he wanted nothing of.

It’s not scary anymore.

He’s used to it.

“Soobin,” there’s a familiar voice behind him, and he turns around to see Beomgyu approaching. He’s already in his nightwear, a simple shirt with pajama pants. He always looks comfy like this. Cuddly like a pillow.

“Hey,” he greets back, eyes stuck on him as Beomgyu moves to stand beside him. He’s looking right ahead, but Soobin doesn’t think he’s really looking at anything.

Beomgyu looks stunning under the night sky. His hair is messy, poking his forehead. Soobin reaches out to brush it aside.

“Are you ready for bed?” he asks fondly, verging closer to him.

Beomgyu turns his head to look at him properly, the sky reflecting in his eyes. He touches the side of his body, up to his rib cage, then it settles on his back, an open palm between his shoulder blades.

Soobin grips on his shoulder. One hand on his neck, feeling his heartbeat on his finger.

“Was it Yeonjun?” Beomgyu quietly asks, lips tugged in a slow smile. “You were talking to Yeonjun?”

“Yeah,” Soobin nods.

Beomgy nods too. “Okay.”

There’s something washed out on the way he’s breathing. Like he’s really taking it in as he inhales. The way he’s looking at him too. It’s softer than usual.

A little with too much love.

Beomgyu moves his hands to cup his face, then leans in to kiss him. It’s chaste but thick with desperation, body sliding on him clumsily as his mouth blends with his teeth, and Soobin kisses him back.

When he pulls away, he’s so close. His forehead knocks his in a silent, dejected manner.

“Soobin, kiss me,” Beomgyu demands, tugs him again. “ _Kiss me._ ”

He takes one look at him before surging forward and kisses him again. Captures his lips in a more attentive kiss, hands circling his torso. Beomgyu skims the hair on the back of his neck, his warmth enclosing.

Then he abruptly leans away, disentangling from him. His eyes are closed.

“Let’s head to bed,” he says faintly, a grating chuckle out of his throat. There’s nothing funny. “I’m really tired. Let’s just sleep, yeah?”

Soobin dazedly nods. “Okay,” he holds his hand and takes him inside.

Their room is coated with the yellowish glow from the bedside lamp. Beomgyu’s face is half the sun.

Soobin pulls the covers up. Beomgyu interlocks their hands together, the gaps disappearing.

“Love you,” he says, but it’s quiter than usual. Thumbs at his thumb.

Soobin’s heart clenches. “I love you too,” he whispers it back. He’s always meant it.

*

A few weeks before their second anniversary, they fight more than they ever have in their entire relationship.

It’s like a ticking bomb, an inevitable explosion. The fifth time Beomgyu makes a fuss about Soobin’s toothbrush on the sink, he realizes there’s something wrong.

Beomgyu is wrung-out, eyes sunken, downcast. He puts his hoodie up on top of his head and drowns in it until he’s almost invisible. He passes him in a flash and hides under the blanket, facing away from him. Soobin gives him space and dips on the bed next to him quietly.

In the middle of the night, Beomgyu opens his eyes in a haze. Eyelashes still sticking together, but he looks at Soobin searchingly in an attempt to see right through him.

“Why aren’t you sleeping?” he asks, voice heavy.

It seems more than that. More than this. What lies in Beomgyu’s face, the way his gaze is delicate like glass, breakable. It’s more than this. Whatever silly, small disagreements that they have - more than that.

Soobin stares at the lines of his face, wishing to read him. “Can’t sleep.”

Beomgyu reaches his hand out, “Come here then,” he says softly, and circles his fingers around Soobin wrist, tugging him gently to him. Soobin comes. Soobin comes, because he wants to feel him too.

He knows Beomgyu is still pissed at him, and silently Soobin is too, because Beomgyu doesn’t always clean the dishes either, and he often puts his glasses way too close to the edge of the table.

But he’s still here. Holding him, loose, but here.

“Do you remember the graduation party?” Beomgyu asks quietly. “When you took me to the dance.”

Soobin closes his eyes, feeling the sides of their wrists knocking together. “Yeah, of course. Why?”

There’s nothing after that, no noise. He almost thinks he’s fallen asleep if not for Beomgyu’s slow shifting, and he realizes that the silence is already an answer.

“Night,” Beomgyu says, trembling against him. A question in it he can’t ponder.

“Night, Gyu,” he whispers on his hair. He doesn’t say anything else out loud.

*

One day in a simple night, the other shoe drops.

Beomgyu stares quietly at him from the edge of the couch, legs crossed neatly underneath him. He’s holding the remote on his hand, eyes transfixed on the moving screen of the tv.

Soobin falls to his knees to the floor in front of him and reaches out to touch his hands, warmth in it he’s known for awhile. “Let’s watch something?”

Beomgyu’s eyes drop slightly, lips curling tight. “Hey,” he exhales. His breath is too soft. His voice, that usual honey sound, jarringly rings in their familiar silence. “Sure, let’s watch something. Interstellar again?”

“Up to you,” Soobin says.

Beomgyu pauses hesitantly, then he smiles, a little one that doesn’t reach his eyes. “Can I ask you something first?”

“Sure.”

There are hands on his face, cupping him fully like he’s a precious thing. Beomgyu caresses his cheeks for a moment, and takes his time to simply look at him, meeting his gaze as Soobin holds on to his knees.

“It was him, wasn’t it,” Beomgyu says. “Your first kiss. It was Yeonjun.”

Soobin’s hold tightens. He fumbles for an answer, but everything dies down at the bottom of his throat.

“I knew ever since the parking lot in that party,” he goes on, and that smile eerily stays. “Not about your first kiss, but that you loved him.”

Then he stops to take a breath. “I just thought that, maybe, after all this time you wouldn’t kept it inside of your heart like this,” he presses hard on his chest, just atop of his hearbeat. “That maybe I would stand a chance. And in that bar when you told me you were fighting I thought _this is where I came in_.”

Beomgyu chuckles clashingly, “But he came here last year, all familiar, and I think something changed in you. Or it stirred something that had never left,” he pauses, the corner of his lips tugging weariedly. “After he went back to LA, you became someone else I had never seen - you were so sad, Soobin. It hurt to look at you. It hurt to touch you knowing that you carry a weight I can never understand.”

Soobin closes his eyes, breathing harshly from his mouth. He reaches out to touch him too, fingers on his elbows, then his arms, then his hands on his face. He’s still touching him with something tender even when their closeness becomes hopeless.

“You never really stopped,” Beomgyu whispers quietly, starkly. “Did you?”

He wants to tell him that he’s moved on, he has, hasn’t thought about that forsaken kiss in _years -_

“I know you love me,” he says, broken bits. Those words aren’t tethered to him anymore.

He does, _god_ , he is so fond of him. His painstaking laughs. The crinkles by the edges of his eyes. How he brushes the hair on his forehead every morning, whispering his soft _hey_ that wakes him up.

“But not like that,” his voice cracks. “You don’t love me like that. Not like him.”

Soobin shakes his head, trembling hands around his hold, harder until his fingernails delve into Beomgyu’s skin. He shakes his head, trying to deny it, but Beomgyu holds his head firmly again.

“But it’s not - ” Soobin croaks out, flimsy as he desperately tries to pull a word out. He’s struck with a sudden fear of being misunderstood. “It’s not like this was ever just a _stop_ to me, you’re not just a - ”

He sucks in a breath, finally opening his eyes. Beomgyu’s eyes are wet, red around the rim. He’s still looking at him the same way.

“I know,” Beomgyu whispers. The pad of his thumb brushes on a tear on his cheek. He feels the last two years here, between them, when he becomes dreadful and out of time. “I know I was more than that.”

“You are,” Soobin corrects quietly.

Beomgyu draws out a shaky laugh. “Yeah.”

Soobin’s lip quivers, holding him tighter around his wrists. His touch is shaking, weakened by the desperation for them to still be tangled like this.

“I just don’t want you to be sad anymore,” Beomgyu breaks apart here, his teeth chattering. “I just don’t want to see you hurting anymore.”

“I’m not,” Soobin shakes his head again, trying to believe it himself. “I’m _not_ \- ”

Beomgyu silently touches the skin under his eyes, pressing hard on the fleshiness of it like he’s trying to take the pain away, ease it better somehow. It’s done subconsciously, he thinks, and Soobin didn't realize that Beomgyu has always seen him like that.

“It’s okay,” he says tenderly. “It’s okay, you don’t have to pretend anymore.”

Soobin straightens up to look at him properly. It’s written all over his face, his acceptance. This isn’t just a sudden revelation. This is something Beomgyu’s kept inside for so long.

“I’m sorry,” Soobin whispers. He’s saying sorry for the dance. He’s saying sorry for Beomgyu’s first kiss. “Gyu, I’m sorry.”

Beomgyu wordlessly nods, grazing his finger on his earlobe, comforting. That’s how he always loves him.

“You’re still waiting around for him,” Beomgyu tells him quietly, word by word, like he’s afraid he wouldn’t hear them enough. Like he’s telling him the news, too. “And I can’t keep waiting around for _you_ , Soobin. It’s not fair to me. I don’t deserve that.”

Soobin leans forward until their foreheads knock, feeling overwhelmingly tired. Only now does it really settle on his heart, that ache and exhaustion. Just how glaringly obvious it has been, but he’s always set it aside.

Beomgyu drags his hands on his scalp slowly, his fingertips a reminiscene, then he opens his mouth. “Do you understand?” his voice is muffled on his ears. It sounds pleading, not a question. He’s asking to leave. A permission to leave.

He takes it in, breathes him in. Beomgyu’s soap, the lingering detergent of his shirt.

 _We could still make it work,_ he wants to say. But he knows he can’t guarantee him anything.

“How about you?” he asks brokenly, can’t bear the thought of letting go of another love.

Beomgyu sighs silently, almost unheard. When he speaks, it’s the most vulnerable he’s ever been, his gaze steady but wounded. “I’ll be fine,” he reassures lowly. “I’ll be fine, I promise.”

“Okay,” Soobin breathes, chest hollowing. Beomgyu’s saying goodye, this is his farewell. He never thought it would ever come. He never thought he would feel it like this. “Okay.”

They stay like that, collided in each other’s warmth, and Beomgyu touches him one last time, a soft graze on his jaw. Soobin closes his eyes and lets it sink on his skin.

“Come on, let’s watch this movie,” Beomgyu leans away jerkily, stirring the moment away. He sniffles before clicking play. Interstellar starts. A scene Soobin knows too well.

The apartment’s becomes an echoey noise of the movie. He’s barely paying attention, too distracted by how much this hurts. Their legs are still touching, Beomgyu’s sweatpants grazing his. He turns to look at him.

Beomgyu’s face is colored by the movie’s tint, black, and white, and sometimes yellow. He stares at him until the colors drip on his skin, and the sight burns to the back of his head.

This is how he’ll always remember Beomgyu. This is how he’ll remember this feeling.

“I love you,” Soobin tells him, more honest than he ever was.

Beomgyu smiles. It hurts for the first time. “I know.”

*

**_me_ **

_hey_

_can you call?_

**_yeonjun_ **

_okay_

_*_

“ _Hey,_ ” Yeonjun’s voice blares in his eardrum.

Soobin draws out a sigh, gripping his phone tighter around his hand. It starts overflowing again the moment it strikes him, that voice, seemingly so close to him even when it’s still the usual nine-thousand distance.

He’s on Taehyun’s couch, crammed on the small space. It’s quiet here in his living room, nothing but the ruffle of his movement around the blanket, trying to make himself comfortable. His legs dangle uselessly to the end of the couch, so he drags his knees until they’re up, his toes on the gap of the cushions.

He stares at the ceiling for a second before inhaling once more, bracing himself. “Hey,” he croaks.

Yeonjun pauses. “ _It’s late there. Can’t sleep?_ ”

“It’s, like, five in the morning there,” Soobin says it back. “Woke up early or haven’t slept?”

A laugh. “ _Guess_ ,” he says playfully.

“Second one.”

“ _Yeah,_ ” he says again, voice small. “ _What’s up?_ ”

Soobin closes his eyes, slumping against the hand of the couch, feeling it potrude on the back of his neck. It’s uncomfortable, he’s way too tall to sleep here, but Taehyun doesn’t have a spare room.

This is all he’s got.

He doesn’t know where else to go.

“I’m at Taehyun’s,” he tells him vaguely, heartbeat plummeting.

“ _So late in the night?_ ”

Soobin bites his lip, suddenly shameful. “I’m going to find a new place,” he goes on. “Until then, I’m going to stay here.”

Yeonjun thinks about it first. The silence stretches, the apartment quiets down, then it erupts like an echo, “ _You’re moving again? What happened to the last one?”_

Soobin lets himself listen to it. He’s been ignoring it for awhile, Yeonjun’s voice, how it always lilts the way his heart likes it, but now he lets it settle, and linger, then it’s back to square one. He’s back to square one.

“He broke up with me,” he says.

“ _Why?_ ”

If Soobin was a braver boy, he would say it. He would tell him that it’s been almost six years since he first kissed him, and Soobin never forgets. He never really figures out how.

Truth is, he’s still a coward. The same boy back then.

“It hurts,” he confides quietly, eyelids pressing down. “It just _hurts._ ”

He’s not sure how else to say it. It’s white-hot in his chest, the scalding pain, how it burdens his shoulders and make them taut. The sofa’s uncomfortable, but it isn’t the reason why his stomach is twisting uncomfortably, everything else numbing.

“ _Tell me what you think._ ”

“I miss the apartment,” he admits, picturing it in his head. It was so homey, draping him with warmthness he never thought he deserved. But it was still there for him to feel, despite it. “I miss waking up to him.”

Taehyun’s apartment is nice, it’s minimalistic but lived in. There isn’t too much space to be gaping, or too confining to make him suffocate. It’s enough - it’s more than _enough_ , he’s grateful to be here anyway. Can’t believe Taehyun’s lending him his home like this.

But it isn’t _his_ home.

The night’s way too quiet. The room’s too echoey, a glaring reminder that he’s alone here. Taehyun’s at the other side of the door, but Soobin’s here when it’s closed.

Soobin moved out of his house, now he’s moved out of their aparment.

He doesn’t know how to -

“I don’t know how to handle it,” Soobin bites his bottom lip, clutches the edge of the blanket with his loosen grip. He needs to let go. He just needs to let go. “I don’t know how to handle this.”

Yeonjun doesn’t answer. He lets the silence stretch, but it isn’t judgemental.

“I,” he opens his mouth, stuck in his throat.

Yeonjun nudges him softly, like a reassurance that it’s okay to keep going. It’s okay to talk about it, there’s nothing wrong about baring his pain. “ _What?_ ”

“I don’t like saying goodbye,” he allows it out of his mouth, chest immediately locking up in a surprise heave. He hasn’t admitted that to himself either.

He hears Yeonjun sigh sadly. “ _I wish you didn’t have to.”_

“I keep changing homes,” Soobin whispers lowly. Not just homes. Hearts. Pretending, shedding, baring. He keeps trying to grip on something, to feel like he belonged.

“ _I’m so sorry, Binnie,”_ Yeonjun says after the seconds gone, sounding so genuinely sorry it aches.

And if he lets his mind lull and his hands open, he can admit that this is what he’s wanted for so long. The simple sound of Yeonjun breathing, even when he isn’t there to feel it. Even when it’s only against the small screen of his phone, even when it’s only there to exist.

Soobin clutches his phone, something arising deep within his chest. “I know,” he takes a deep breath, then tries to focus on the way the blanket feels against his skin.

“ _Some people are meant to be together,_ ” Yeonjun says slowly, breathing on the speaker, the puffs a heat. “ _Some are not. Do you believe that?”_

It comes in full force when Yeonjun’s voice breaks out again, and Soobin realizes he never really stopped. That eighteenth birthday party, it’s the most alive it’s ever been.

Soobin feels the music by his temple, pulsing until his head hurts. “I don’t know,” he admits. “Do you?”

“ _Yeah,_ ” Yeonjun answers, ready in his mouth. He contemplates it for a second. “ _I’d like to believe that it’s true, you know. That if it’s meant to be, we would be.”_

“We?”

Yeonjun laughs. “ _Yeah, me and whoever it is I’m supposed to end up with_.”

“Do you ever feel empty?” Soobin asks without thinking, relying on reflex and the apartment’s quiet ambience. There’s no other sound here. “Like something’s missing?”

“ _Mm,”_ Yeonjun hums in agreement. “ _Maybe I’m just not meant for love or something._ ”

“But you’ve always wanted love,” Soobin says. He remembers. “You’ve always craved for that.”

Yeonjun stays quiet. Soobin wonders what he’s really thinking.

“ _I still do, I think,”_ he says then. “ _But everyone else feels wrong. I tried to look for something that fits, but it always feels misplaced. I don’t think I will ever find it, I,”_ he stops so abruptly Soobin blinks his eyes open. “ _None of them ever felt like - ”_

He chuckles, so low it’s baseless. “ _Nevermind.”_

“What?”

 _“Nevermind,_ ” he repeats, almost harsh. Almost. He continues to say tenderly, “ _I’m really sorry it didn’t work._ ”

Soobin gulps the growing lump in his throat. “Me too,” he whispers.

“ _Do you want to watch something?_ ”

“Like, right now?”

“ _Yeah, right now,”_ Yeonjun snorts. “ _With me, together._ ”

A fire builds. “It’s five there,” he reminds him quietly. “You haven’t even slept. Aren’t you tired?”

“ _Not now_ ,” he says. “ _Come on, what do you want to watch?_ ”

Soobin chuckles, pent up fondness bubbling. He didn’t realize how much he’s been holding it in until it becomes overbearing as the dam breaks, and Yeonjun is present with him.

“Taehyun’s asleep,” he points out, glancing at his closed door. “I don’t want to wake him up.”

“ _Ah, it’s fine, just keep whispering,_ ” Yeonjun nudges effortlessly. “ _Come on, don’t leave me hanging.”_

Soobin’s resolution melts just like that. “Fine, you’re impossible to say no to.”

Yeonjun laughs, obviously satisfied. “ _Let’s see,_ ” he hums to himself, scrolling through Netflix Soobin assumes. “ _Let’s just watch Twilight._ ”

“Fine,” Soobin says again. He doesn’t hate it as much as he pretends to.

“ _Fine_ ,” Yeonjun echoes mockingly. Then they both click play, and the movie starts.

He’s fairly serious when watching movies, always keeping his commentary to a minimal amount, but right now he talks over the dialogues and scenes - aimless, insignificant things that make Soobin smiles. Soobin thinks he knows what he’s doing, but can’t bother to stop him when his chest already feels lighter.

A lot lighter as the couch feels a lot less shameful too.

“Hey,” Soobin calls, staring at the screen.

“ _Mm?”_

This is so familiar. This is going back to his old house, feeling his skin pressed on the coldness of his wall. This is how it feels like to be under their fort and the space wasn’t painful.

“Thanks, Junie,” he whispers softly.

At least he’s still here. At least he’s still his best friend.

Yeonjun’s voice tickles, all the way to Seoul. Here, present, waiting on Soobin’s skin. “ _You’re good,_ ” he says, just as soft, and Soobin knows they’re finally okay.

*

His new apartment is smaller, not by a lot, but it’s comfortable and an enough room for him. The floors aren’t confining, the windows are wide, and the double bed isn’t stuck to the wall.

There’s a balcony too, just like theirs, and it overlooks the city the way Soobin likes it. He likes breathing the air in until his lungs expand and the day’s exhaustion finally disspates. It reminds him of something that he always forgets to do - to simply revel in the second without waiting for it to linger.

Soobin invites Taehyun for dinner the first night he moves in as a way to thank him for lending him the couch for weeks before he found this place. He goes all out and orders most of Taehyun’s favorite food which makes him smile so wide it looks almost funny.

“God, this is a nice place,” Taehyun says through the food in his mouth, looking around the room.

Soobin agrees. It is. “I’m lucky I got it in time.”

He doesn’t know how he’ll adapt to living alone. He hasn’t experienced it yet, he moved in with Beomgyu right after he graduated, and now he’s figuring it out from the start.

“It’s still weird,” he tells him out loud. “Moving in to a new place. Alone.”

Taehyun reaches out to gulp his water. They share a look by the rim of the glass, then he stares right at him when he drops it down. “You’ll get used to it,” he says.

He knows that. Of course he’ll get used to it.

“I know, it’s just weird right now,” he blows a breath, moves the spoon around the plate.

Taehyun gives him an understanding look. “You’ll be fine, Soobin.”

He thinks he knows. He thinks he knows that he will.

When Taehyun gets ready to go, Soobin stops him by the door. He shuffles uneasily, doesn’t quite know how to say it, but he decides to just go for it.

“Hey,” he starts. They don’t really get sentimental, but he knows Taehyun always appreciates a nice acknowledgement every now and then. It’s also been awhile since they became friends, and yet Taehyun is still here, eating dinner at his new, empty apartment. It means a lot more than he could ever form into words. “Thanks,” it comes out like that: short, but deeply grateful.

Taehyun gets it, though. He smiles, smacks him on the arm. “Thanks for dinner too.”

Soobin smiles at him and goes in for a hug, which Taehyun quickly reciprocates by wrapping his hands around his back, laughing against his shoulder.

“We’re still going to see each other,” Taehyun teases when he pulls away.

Soobin shoos him away, opening the door for him. “Thanks again,” he repeats, still hoping Taehyun understands.

Taehyun still does. He waves his hand warmly, flashing him a wide grin, and Soobin is left alone in his apartment, but it isn’t as empty anymore.

The break up stings more when it becomes tangible.

Sometimes he finds himself getting silent, anticipating for another sound. Or reaching his hand out reflexively when his eyes are closed, but he’s alone in his bed.

Soobin misses Beomgyu. It’s warranted, it’s only been a few months since. The pain isn’t scorching anymore, but it’s still there in the back of his heart, lingering.

And it’s always the little things. He misses how Beomgyu used to wake him up with the softest voice, and especially feels the hole of the quiet apartment more when there’s no longer the melodic tune of his guitar, velvety voice echoing around the room. He misses Beomgyu’s sound, he thinks. The sound of his love, the sound of his smile, his presence.

Despite that, he knows it was the right call. Beomgyu chose to leave, for him, and for himself too.

He always admires that about him. He’s corageous, more than Soobin’s ever been his whole life. That steady resolution even when his voice shatters. That unshakeable gaze even when his touch gives out.

Soobin wishes he could give him more. But he knows there’s no use for that guilt because it passed, and now he’s here.

Getting used to another apartment, another routine, another life. Soobin gets used to it like he knows he would.

He decorates the apartment as best as he can. Buys the furniture that he likes, even Yeonjun helps him choose which sheets fit his bed better, which lamp would look best on his bedside.

Yeonjun starts to call him again now.

They talk a lot more, like they’re catching up on lost time. The fight in LA is slowly erased, an invisible scar between them. They’re both slowly cleaning the fog. A team effort.

Soobin calls him when it’s twelve at Seoul, seven in LA. When Yeonjun picks up he hears his hitched breath, anticipating. He realizes it’s been a long since he wished him like this, in real time, not just through a voice note or a text. “Happy birthday, old man,” he says close to the speaker, snickers quietly when Yeonjun gasps.

“ _Is that how you talk to me? Greet me properly.”_

“Fine,” Soobin holds in his laugh. “Happy twenty fourth birthday, old man.”

Yeonjun curses under his breath, “ _You’re so fucking annoying,”_ he hisses. “ _As if you wouldn’t be twenty four in three months too._ ”

“Sure,” Soobin says. “But right now you’re still older than me, so.”

“ _You know what I fucking hate you_.”

He stares thoughtfully at his new ceiling and thinks that he’s glad nothing’s permanent, because right now he doesn’t feel the love’s weight on his chest. It used to hurt to love Yeonjun, but he’s forgiven.

He’s forgiven himself. He’s forgiven the fight.

The love is brimming, but it isn’t pained. He lets it warm his entire body even when it sticks to the gaps between his fingers that were usually filled with another.

“I fucking hate you too,” he returns, smiling. Uneffortlessly fond.

Then Yeonjun tells him that he’s talking to Kai again. It started, he says, when Kai replied to his instagram story, the conversation escalates, and it still hasn’t stopped. Yeonjun doesn’t talk about him like he’s in high school anymore. He’s getting to know him better now. Yeonjun says he might like him best than the rest.

Soobin understands. All of Yeonjun’s past relationships have been short, probably meaningless, and Yeonjun didn’t dwell on them for long. Never seemed like he was bothered with them ending. He gets it - Kai is his high school friend, he’s familiar, he genuinely liked him in high school, and Soobin reckons that even years later that spark can get ignited again. Especially after they met again during that dinner, it’s no wonder that they start catching up and those feelings came back.

Really, he gets it.

Soobin just wishes that Kai feels right. That he fits. That he doesn’t feel wrong.

“ _I hope he still likes me,_ ” Yeonjun says one day. Soobin lets a simple laugh out of him.

“Of course he does,” he replies quietly, surely. “Don’t worry about it, Junie.”

*

Soobin spends New Year at home this year.

He deems it futile to go out because he doesn’t know what he’s celebrating anyway, and Taehyun is spending it with his family for the first time in a while. Soobin doesn’t think it would be fun to just roam around the city uselessly alone, so why not stay inside where he knows he’ll still hear the sound of the year ending inside the four walls of his home?

Yeonjun calls him at the peak of it. His hair is messy, tousled from sleep, and his eyes are wearied and dark. Soobin doesn’t know when he last slept.

“ _Hey,_ ” he greets to the screen and smiles when Soobin’s face pops up. “ _New year, new me. Right?_ ”

“Right,” Soobin says monotonely, chuckling. “You going out tonight?”

Tonight, meaning tomorrow in Seoul.

Yeonjun purses his lips. “ _Nah, don’t think so,_ ” he says. “ _Not really in the mood. Might sleep the whole day off or something too.”_

“Sounds like a plan.”

“ _Yeah. Are the fireworks out yet?_ ”

Soobin takes a peek out of the balcony, the starless sky, cloaked by multicolors sparks. It’s not a lot yet, just a few here and there in close intervals, every jolt of them seems to shake the ground.

“Mm,” Soobin murmurs, standing up to open the door to the balcony. He switches to front camera to show Yeonjun the loud show. Yeonjun opens his mouth as he gapes at the more blurred, smaller version of the fireworks on his screen.

“ _Miss watching them with you,_ ” he says, out of breath.

“You’ll see them with me next year,” Soobin promises quietly. It’s not a heavy promise. Yeonjun will get back next year. He will finally come home for real, and they’ll see the fireworks together like they used to.

It’s not out of reach.

Yeonjun easily breaks down his fear by smiling, “ _Of course. Can’t wait._ ”

Soobin leans against the railing, peering down at his phone. The fireworks keep going off, extragavant in the way they explode, sparkling, bursting. He bets they’re beautiful. He bets that they’re magnificent - they always are.

He stares at Yeonjun, doesn’t opt for anything else.

Giving the screen a long look, Yeonjun’s stare is a little sideway. “ _Hey_ ,” he says, hesitation thick on his tongue. “ _Can I ask you something?”_

Soobin nods. “Sure.”

“ _Just,_ ” he pauses, worries the bottom of his lip, dithered. “ _You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to, but if you do - I swear it’s the last time I’ll ever speak of it_.”

“Okay.”

“ _What happened to us,_ ” he continues, his voice persistent, curious. “ _Do you regret it?_ ”

He’s talking about the kiss. Soobin doesn’t think Yeonjun would ever mention it like this. It’s been so long, it feels like a dream. He takes his time to process it, mind whirring in an impulse.

“No,” he replies honestly.

It would probably be easier for him if the kiss never happened, if Soobin never realized that he was in love with him in that party. Soobin thinks about the possibility of losing that dreaded moment before Yeonjun leaned in, and he knows that he still wouldn’t change it for anything in the world.

The sight of it, the feel of it. Yeonjun’s beer breath, Yeonjun’s fingers, Yeonjun’s moon. How the planes of his body weren’t fizzy, a reverie like now. That’s a part of him as his limbs are. A part of him like the breath stuck in his throat. He wouldn’t know what to do if he lost that.

Yeonjun’s face falls, just a little, if not for the molden state of his jaw. “ _Yeah?_ ”

Soobin nods, shaking to the bottom of his toes. The fireworks are defeaning. “Yeah,” he nods again, trying to justify it, but in the end he just simply shrugs.

It doesn’t matter. It’s been six years since the kiss, and he’s still here.

“ _So you wouldn’t do anything different?_ ”

He regretted not kissing him back for a long time. Lament at the loss of his touch before Yeonjun’s forehead met his shoulder as he fell asleep, and that moment’s forever gone in the drain.

He’s realized, for a long time too, that he wouldn’t have known how to stop if he ever kissed back. That ache would deepen, the bruise would become a splotch of purple and blue, and Soobin would feel the kiss turtoruously in years to come, knowing that kiss only meant something to him alone.

In restrospect, he’s glad he didn’t kiss him back because it never mattered to Yeonjun whether he did or not.

“No,” he shakes his head.

Yeonjun stares right ahead at him blankly, almost unseeing. Then he nods, a stiff movement. “ _Okay,”_ he breathes, so short but weighed. His face is unreadable. “ _How long until midnight?_ ”

Soobin peeks at the top of his screen, gulping it down as the conversation sizzles. “Ten minutes.”

Yeonjun stays until the fireworks are the loudest, and another year sets in.

“ _Happy new year, Binnie_ ,” he says to the screen. It isn’t yet for him, not in LA.

Soobin thinks he could bear this, because he has for so long. He thinks he could bear celebrating this with Yeonjun all over again every year even when the fireworks have always been unimportant and dull.

Yeonjun smiles at him. That smile, on his lips, blurred but real. He’s not mad at it. The smile isn’t a picture of his regret anymore. He lets himself look. He lets himself love, a relief instead of pretence.

Another year has set in. Soobin never got over the first easy step.

*

When Yeonjun comes home with that master’s degree, Kai is the one who picks him up.

Soobin gets a text and a photo of them both in the airport. He stifles the rush of relief seeing him like that in here again, the shade of sun familiar, Kai presses close to him like something steady, sure, not fleeting. He sends a quiet _I’ll see you soon, stay safe_ to the speaker before turning his phone off with his insides burning loud.

What he doesn’t expect is for Yeonjun to shows up at his door the next day, a mere few minutes before the bells rung when his students are still on their seats, impatiently waiting for school to be over. He sees the top of Yeonjun’s head, a sliver of his forehead, and a familiar set of eyes peeking on the window.

He fumbles on his last greeting, already distracted, but he’s saved by the bells.

Yeonjun peers on the edge of the door, his hands on the hinges. The students roll out one-by-one until it’s empty, and now it’s just the two of them.

“Soobin-ssi,” he greets formally, laughing as he bows.

“Oh my god, shut up.”

Yeonjun’s eyes twinkle, so close. “Am I in the right class?” his voice lilts playfully.

Soobin parts his lips, choking sounds at the back of his throat as his eyes finally land on him properly. Yeonjun leans on his table with his hip, looking at him with something soft in his gaze.

His hair is darker than it’s ever been, stark and black. It looks good on him - his bangs a little choppy on the sides, long and reaching his cheeks. He can’t really see it from where he’s standing, but he thinks he’s in a ponytail. He looks different than he’s used to, but it’s still the same eyes.

The same boy.

He’s here, in front of him, and he isn’t leaving anymore.

“You didn’t say you were coming,” Soobin manages to say, hoping it doesn’t shake.

Yeonjun shrugs, almost bashful, muttering quietly. “Surprise?”

“What the hell,” Soobin lunges forward in reflex, can’t be bothered to think about it when every bits of his emotions are brimming and bright and hot. He closes his eyes, slipping his arms around him until they’re locked and secure.

He hears Yeonjun gasp, a surprise air out of his mouth as they crash together, his hands easily pressing on Soobin’s body, open palms on the small of his back. Their ribs meet again. The bumps of their collarbones. Their heartbeats - there, close, almost touching. Almost, almost, _almost_.

Soobin’s heart clenches silently, his skin tingling as he feels him like this again, taking it in as Yeonjun hooks his chin close on his shoulder. They breath out of sync, unrhythmic, but it’s a haven, it’s a shelter.

“So am I in the right class?” Yeonjun whispers when they break apart, hands still around him. He laughs until his eyes are small, crescents.

Soobin lets himself fall on pebbles, just a little thing. His hands linger for a moment until he finally lets him go. “I didn’t know you missed me like that,” Yeonjun goes on.

God, he’s missed this. _Missed him_.

“Not really,” Soobin deflects, even as his voice trembles.

“I miss you too,” Yeonjun says, not above a whisper. His lips tug up and up quietly like a secret.

“Hey,” Soobin clams his mouth shut then, trying to regain his control. He doesn’t really know what else to say. This is a reunion in more ways than one. A reunion after the fight, a reuinion after everything’s okay. Not a collision, doesn’t hurt. This isn’t the balcony anymore. “Hey, Junie.”

His voice doesn’t echo, tender instead. This isn’t a parting anymore. “Hey, Binnie.”

*

Yeonjun brings wine.

The apartment stills as they enter it, the key jiggling on the bowl by the door. Soobin fidgets as he fumbles for two clear glasses in the cupboard, glancing at Yeonjun’s wide, curious eyes on the edges of his home.

“This is so comfy, Binnie,” he says in wonderment. “Can I see your room?”

Soobin nods stiffly. “Sure, it’s this way.”

He brings him to the corner where his room resides, the plain door closed. He opens it with his other hand that’s not holding the glasses, and it finally comes in view.

The room isn’t anything special, he thinks. It’s just a room.

But Yeonjun’s staring at it seriously, eyes still as big. He laughs when he sees the lamp beside his bed, walking inside to turn it on until the yellowish hue ebbs bright.

“You still sleep with a lamp?”

Soobin shrugs, sheepish. “Helps me sleep.”

Yeonjun hums. “You haven’t changed at all then.”

“You still sleep with your light off too.”

He smiles at him, like he gets the point. “Right,” he nods. “You’re right. I can’t sleep with the light on.”

Soobin tugs at the doorknob when Yeonjun gets out, mumbling quietly. “Then we both haven’t changed.”

The living room is where he usually stays. Sometimes he falls asleep here when he’s too tired to get up. There’s a reason why he bought a longer, bigger couch so that his body could fit in.

He sets the glasses on the table in front of it as Yeonjun settles on the couch, sitting cross-legged comfortably. Soobin pours the scarlet rich liquid until the glasses are halfly red.

Soobin sits next to him, angled just right until they’re faced to each other.

“To you,” he says quietly, clinking his glass to Yeonjun’s in a loud ring.

“To _me_?” Yeonjun furrows his eyebrows, then sips his wine quietly, his nose peeking through the rim. “What are we celebrating?”

Soobin doesn’t know what they’re celebrating. He’s celebrating a lot of things.

He’s cheering on the fact that he’s not being weird about this. That he can look at Yeonjun and doesn’t feel angry anymore. He’s no longer denying it.

Yeonjun still looks breathtaking, breathless, the soft pillowy surface of his fingers around his glass. It’s still fatal. Still unknowing, but surely named. Everything about him still ignites and pulls.

But that doesn’t scare him. Not here, not now. Not anymore.

“You were in LA for six years,” Soobin says, tasting the wine on his tongue to his throat. “That’s worth celebrating.”

Yeonjun shrugs like it’s not a big deal, but his face folds into something proud. “Sure, I like that. Let’s celebrate me.”

“How’s Seoul?”

“ _Man_ ,” he starts as he moves, the reddish color in his glass swishing. “You don’t really understand how much you’re missing something until you get it back. I didn’t realize how much I miss this place until I’m back here again, but it’s final. Like, _this is it_. I’m settled. I didn’t get it but I feel it now.”

“Are you glad you’re back?”

Yeonjun’s gaze feels heavier than it should be. His eyes move ever so slightly, like he’s trying to focus. “Yeah,” he nods, lips tighten. “Yeah, I’m glad I’m here.”

Soobin drinks his glass full. Yeonjun too. Then they talk, pour another glass, then they talk, and another glass is filled with that deep, rosy color.

“So you met Kai,” he says.

Yeonjun flushes at that, even though his face was already dewy to begin with. It’s still the same reaction now - always after that name is uttered.

“Mm,” Yeonjun nods, ducking his head. “He picked me up. Spent the whole day with him yesterday.”

“What’d you guys do?”

“Went to his place,” he says. His lips have become the same color as the wine. “Ate a lot, talked a lot. We weren’t really sure where we stood because of the distance thing, but now that I’m back here, for real this time - ”

“Yeah?”

Yeonjun doesn’t meet his gaze, breath a little stuck. “We made it official.”

Soobin grips his glass. Sips the wine again until his mind becomes more of a throb.

“That’s great,” he says. “Junie, that’s _great_. You’ve been dancing around each other for so long. Since high school, right?”

“Since high school,” he repeats in confirmation, almost in a haze. Then he chuckles absentmindedly, his voice slow. “I can’t believe he still likes me.”

Soobin stares at him until his vision blurs. “Junie,” he breathes. Earnest, earnest. Braver than he ever was. “Who wouldn’t want you?”

Yeonjun looks up to him. There’s something gut wrenching about the way he looks right now. He’s unsure, the corner of his left eye ticking. Soobin wonders if he hears the confession _there_.

Their eyes meet in a suffocating moment, but Yeonjun soon ducks his head again. He doesn’t answer.

Soobin leans back to the couch. Traces the surface of it until the moment evaporates. “How do you feel about it?”

Yeonjun fumbles for words, fingers interlocked on the handle of his glass. He’s fidgeting, visibly thinking it over.

“I’m happy it’s working,” he says carefully. “It’s just, nice, Binnie,” he goes on, quieter. “It’s just nice to have someone around.”

He opens his mouth again. Soobin doesn’t know how much of it is the alcohol and pure will.

“Sometimes I just want _that_ , you know,” Yeonjun puts the glass so close to his bottom lip, touching, but he doesn’t move it. “The simple knowledge of knowing for a fact that someone would catch you if you fall.”

Then he shakes his head, like he’s just realized what he said. “I know that sounds fucking cheesy and all, but - it gets really lonely, and I just,” he rambles, words slurring together. “I don’t want to be lonely anymore. I just don’t want to be lonely _anymore_.”

He meets his gaze, so abruptly Soobin flinches. “Do you know what I mean, Binnie?”

Soobin simply nods. He aches quietly when Yeonjun’s eyes water.

He sees the restrain. There’s something else that Yeonjun wants to say, but he’s holding on to it. Sees it crystal clear, the hesitation, almost exploding in his unceritain gaze.

“I know what you mean,” Soobin answers. Makes it easier for him.

Yeonjun’s face contorts, not sourly. Uncomfortable. “I don’t want you to know what I mean. I don’t want you to be lonely.”

Soobin chuckles, taps the glass apologetically. “Sorry,” he says.

“Sorry too,” Yeonjun says, not specifying.

“It was weird without you,” Soobin admits quietly. Thinks back about the dance and high school when they were never apart. Thinks about the last years when he was here alone without him.

Yeonjun looks at him sadly. He looks so much like he did back then. Only now does Soobin really feel him again. That boy in the bus stop. That boy under the blanket.

He’s still here. Despite looking older. Despite his longer, choppier hair.

He’s still here.

“It’s lonely without you,” Yeonjun says, his voice low, fragile.

Soobin can’t think. He manages a half-smile, acknowledging it. Him. Everything unspoken that becomes spoken. The wine bottle is empty. So is his glass. Yeonjun’s has no more red.

“I hated fighting with you,” he lets it out, his head lighter than ever. “I _hated_ it. I don’t want to do it again.”

Yeonjun laughs, a freeing sound out of his chest. He scoots closer to him, just like he used to, the distance between them closing on space by space.

“Me too. Let’s not fight again,” he breathes harshly. “Binnie, you’re my best friend. Right?”

Soobin nods stiffenly. Yeonjun’s so close. He’s so close like this. He could reach out to brush his bangs aside, the ones sticking on to his cheeks. He could graze his fingers on his skin and they would still be alight.

He doesn’t. “Yeah.”

“I won’t lose that, right? I won’t lose _you_ , right?”

His voice is high, needy. Soobin nods again. And again. And again. He wants him to know that it will never change. He will always have him.

“I’m still here, aren’t I,” Soobin rasps.

_Best friend forever, right?_

Yeonjun backs away. He goes back to his spot, lowering his glass. There’s a newfound clarity in his eyes.

“Okay,” he says softly. “Okay.”

Soobin stares at him. It’s been so long since they talked like this. Since they had each other like this - face to face, so tangible. He’s had him in fragments, never the whole thing. A temporary trip. Phone calls with different skies. Compact voices that repeat the same thing over and over again.

He’s had him only in pieces ever since he left.

Pieces, yet never half-heartedly. Not to Soobin.

“To you,” he flicks his empty glass, lips quirking up when Yeonjun laughs again and it’s the prettiest thing tonight.

He’s still the most loved boy he’s ever known.

Yeonjun raises his glass, clinking it with his. He’s smiling, sunny still.

“To us,” he says.


	5. perihelion

Yeonjun appears on his door one night with his face blooming with a happiness so infectious it hurts.

“Fuck,” he curses loudly, eyes almost boggling out of his skull. But he’s smiling. He’s _smiling_.

Soobin stares at him confusedly, forehead creasing. “What is it?”

He paces excitedly, body vibrating with something he can’t place. “He fucking proposed to me,” Yeonjun tells him shrilly, a breathiness to it. He rushes inside and Soobin closes the door, gaping at him when Yeonjun looks back at him with wide, disbelieving eyes.

“What,” he says.

“He proposed to _me_!” Yeonjun repeats, almost yelling. He reaches out to grip Soobin’s shoulders, fingers digging to his skin. “Kai proposed to _me_.”

Soobin stares at him until his mind registers it, and then he’s attacked with a bear hug. Yeonjun throws his arms around him, hooking his hands on the small of his back. There’s a warm cheek on his shoulder.

He reflexively holds him back, feeling Yeonjun’s scratchy sweater against his palms. Yeonjun shakes on his body, but he can tell it’s from excitement and rush, his heartbeat an apparent drum on his chest.

“What,” Soobin repeats, higher, can’t believe what he’s hearing.

Yeonjun laughs, louder when the silence becomes too defeaning, and louder when he pulls away to look at him properly in the eyes. “I said yes,” he exhales in elation. “ _I said yes_.”

“Oh,” Soobin replies woundedly, mind suddenly blank. He forces the smile to stay. “ _Oh_. Oh my god. Junie, what the hell? You’re getting married?”

Yeonjun stares at him, longer than he could bare. There’s a question in his eyes but he doesn’t voice it, and then he smiles, just a little heartbreaking thing, dangling between his two lips.

“Yeah,” he simply nods. “Yeah, can you believe that?”

Soobin’s still holding him by the shoulders. He thinks he would fall if his grip loosen, but Yeonjun’s still holding him too - those scorching fingers on the knobs of his torso, strong and unhesitant.

He gulps it down, like he always has, blinks his eyes awake to stay grounded. “You have the ring?”

The laugh that he lets out is grating, stings on the shifting air between them. Yeonjun lets him go, the warm subsides, and he shows him his hand.

It’s there.

It’s there, the gleaming ring on his ring finger.

Soobin thinks it fits well. It doesn’t look misplaced. Yeonjun looks good with the ring. The bright smile on his mouth fits well, too.

 _God,_ he knows that smile isn’t for him. Never was.

It’s still lovely. Still heavenly. He’s still drawn to it, wanting it to always stay.

“It’s beautiful,” he croaks weakly, but he’s staring at Yeonjun. Burns the sight of it to the back of his head, how Yeonjun looks under his ceiling’s light. Nothing ever compares. Not a goddamn thing has ever compared. “I’m happy for you,” he continues. For once it doesn’t shake. For once it isn’t a made-up lie.

He’s happy for him.

“Thanks,” Yeonjun’s smile gets bigger. Soobin sinks further.

It’s only been a year when he and Kai started dating, the first time Yeonjun came back to Seoul to come home, not just a visit. It’s only been a year and now he’s engaged, the glint of his ring glaring and obvious.

“It’s fast,” Soobin points out carefully. It’s not ill-intent, he just wants to make sure. “You’re not rushing it?”

Yeonjun shakes his head, the motion not halted, but deliberate. “No,” he says quietly.

One last thing. One last thing, and Soobin won’t ever budge again. “And you’re happy?”

Yeonjun doesn’t answer, but there’s a nod. Slow and faint, but still _there_.

That’s all he needs. That’s all he wants.

“Oh my god, you’re getting married!” Soobin shouts then, an octave higher, and his chest clears from the lump, and suddenly he feels incredibly weightless. His heart throbs but he’s free, his heart tightens but it’s _free_. “ _Oh my god_ , you’re - getting married.”

Yeonjun only laughs, crashing instinctively into him like gravity, just like he used to back in high school. They’re laughing deliriously, the world shrinks to this small space of his apartment, and they exist together, and it’s enough.

“Be my best man or something,” he whispers between them, carelessly, yet soft-spoken, “Be my best man, Binnie.”

It’s a promise he gave him a lifetime ago. The memory’s not vivid anymore, but Soobin remembers the sun and the pebbles.

He promised him this when the time’s come. And the time has come.

Soobin stares at him voicelessly. “Yeah,” he says. “Of course, Junie. I’ll be your best man.”

Yeonjun laughs into him again, and they collide like stars. Soobin marvels in it as it is. Just how much this moment reeks of _them_. He doesn’t try to grasp it or crystallize it until he has it in his grip. He lets it breathe and stretch the way it’s supposed to be. The familiar bumps of their shoulders together, their feet knocking, the apartment stripping from sound.

The eighteenth birthday party ends. It’s no longer a ceaseless night where he is. There’s no obnoxious music anymore.

Soobin smiles back at him.

*

The engagement party is held in a restaurant.

It isn’t anything extravagant, just a casual get-together of family and close friends. Some co-workers too. The atmosphere of it is calm, time dragging comfortably and patiently.

This section is private, previously rented. It’s secluded from the rest, more sound-proof, a lot less crowded. Soobin tugs at his tie, feeling his heartbeat quickens when he takes in the whole sight, and everything starts to dawn on him.

Yeonjun is getting married.

His best friend is getting _married_.

Choi Yeonjun, his best friend in the entire world. He’s getting married.

He sees him there, by the far corner of the table, sitting beside Kai - both with a matching shine in their eyes, leaning to each other like magnets.

Soobin inhales harshly before approaching them.

Kai looks up first, immediately flashing him a polite smile. He stands up to give him a brief hug.

“Hey,” he chirps, patting his back. “Thanks for coming.”

“Wouldn’t miss it,” Soobin replies, strained. Yeonjun shifts beside him, and they lock gaze.

There’s an understanding there - bared from a single look. He gives him a curt nod, almost formal, but he chuckles and falls into him, gripping his forearms enthusiastically.

“Hey, Binnie,” Yeonjun greets him. Honeyed, dripping. “You’re on time.”

“Why would I be late on your special day?” Soobin asks him, raising a brow. He’s quite breathless.

Yeonjun smacks his arm. He looks stunning like this, when the restaurant’s light hits his face _just_ right, an elegance he shouldn’t be familiar with. He’s wearing a suit, handsomely so.

“Isn’t the wedding the special day?”

“Same thing,” Soobin replies absentmindedly, starstruck. The moon’s watching them again.

It’s been eight years since the kiss. Eight years since, and he’s still here.

 _Here_ , in every sense of the word. _Here_ , meaning he loves him here in his engagement party too. As much as he did in that lonesome balcony when he was seventeen.

“I’m glad you’re here,” Yeonjun whispers, low enough that it’s just between them. His eyes twinkle under the light, and Soobin gives him a wholehearted smile.

There are a lot of things that he wants to say.

He wants to tell him that he looks beautiful tonight. Divine, the world is undeserving. He likes the makeup around his eyes. The soft glimmer on his lips, how it flickers when he moves. 

He wants to tell him that Yeonjun looks good with the ring. That he fits perfectly here.

Moreso, even as hollow as it sounds: _I’m happy you’re happy_. It isn’t an empty feeling.

“Me too,” he ends up saying, then repeats because he feels like it isn’t enough. “ _Me too_.”

Yeonjun nods, like he understands. Maybe he does. Soobin hopes he does. He doesn’t know how else to say it. He grazes his hand on his for a quiet moment before finally letting him go.

Dinner starts when the guests are mostly already present.

Kai starts talking, building the atmosphere up. Soobin leans back on his chair and tries to stay in place. He’s watching them from afar, fingers fiddling with the hem of his suit absentmindedly.

That’s when he spots a flash of someone getting inside the room, so quick he couldn’t make it out. It gets more familiar when he approaches his table, then the only vacant seat on the room beside him is taken by a boy. There’s a sliding sound when the bottom of the chair meets the floor.

“Soobin.”

He exhales, looking at him right in the eyes. “Gyu, hi.”

Beomgyu puts his elbows on the table, doe eyes at Kai and Yeonjun. “Hey.”

“Hey,” Soobin says again.

It’s been a while since he saw him. Yeonjun and Kai don’t really invite them _both_ together because of the history, but he does see him every now and then due to circumstances, but they don’t really interact aside from a few nods.

Beomgyu looks put-together. He’s wearing a nice suit, one he’s used to seeing on him. His hair is still flopping on his forehead, just above his eyebrows.

“How are you?” he whispers, Kai’s voice muted in the background.

Soobin nods, non-committal. He wouldn’t say they’re unfriendly. They’re just not familiar anymore. Not comfortable. But they’re not unfriendly.

“I’ve been good,” he replies. “You?”

Beomgyu gives him a small smile. “I’ve been good too,” he does the nod the same way he does. Guarded and vague, not really showing anything.

Soobin understands. He thinks relationships are messy, and theirs was as well. The fact that Beomgyu still comes up to him to say hi is more than enough. He doesn’t expect more. Won’t ever ask for more either.

“Good,” he says genuinely. He’s glad if Beomgyu’s okay.

Beomgyu looks at him wordlessly. A finality in his stare, a last second of his smile before it disappears. He doesn’t say anything else, simply turning around to face the front.

Kai talks a little longer before it’s Yeonjun’s turn. He makes his speech simple, but heartwarming and sincere. He waves his hands and bows politely before sitting back.

Dinner passes by in a haze. It’s over before he knows it. His stomach is full, the crowd disperse slowly, and Beomgyu is no longer by his side. Some people have already left.

Soobin watches from afar as Yeonjun laughs, the sound to it seemingly close even when it’s not. His arm is pressed close on Kai’s, and they’re talking to people he doesn’t recognize.

Suddenly it thickens. The air suffocates.

He makes way to the restaurant’s open balcony. Leaning on the railing, feeling the metal sticks to his palms. He breathes in, a numbness that fills his lungs.

It dawns on again, another clarity. Just how much time has passed.

He stares at the city, a full once-over that calms him down. This used to terrify him - the realization that there’s nothing he could do to stop time. There’s nothing he could change that would make him cherish a moment before it’s gone.

It still scares him, but he’s not paralyzed by it anymore.

He doesn’t count it. The breaths he takes. He lets it lull him in until his shoulders relax and his elbows don’t knock harshly against the railing.

So many time has passed. That’s how it’s supposed to be.

“Binnie,” there’s a voice.

He doesn’t turn around. He knows that voice anywhere.

“Junie,” he laughs when he sees Yeonjun comes in sight. He leans on the railing too, tilting his head to look at him. He’s charming. He’s stunning. The moon on his cheeks.

“What are you doing here?”

“It’s beautiful up here,” he answers as he gazes at the rows of lights below. The buildings look overwhelmingly high. Dampen, an almost silence of the cars that gets overpowered by the sound inside. “Right?”

Yeonjun stares at it too. He looks thoughtful. “Yeah,” he breathes. “Beautiful.”

Soobin lets the moving cars go. He lets the blinking lights blink. He lets it go, one by one, until he’s no longer stuck in a second that was never meant to last.

“You’re getting married,” he sighs, almost hysterical. “Junie, you’re getting married.”

It’s not regret. It’s not mournful. Just an open mouth, words.

Yeonjun laughs, unrestrained. It’s careless, laced in disbelief. “ _I know_ ,” he gasps.

Soobin takes his time to look at him. Once in every spot. Once, in each place that ever hurts. Once, as Yeonjun is unaware of it, and Soobin grips on a chance to savour it last.

“What are _you_ doing here?” he asks quietly. Yeonjun’s ring glints, so plain on his finger. “You’re missing out.”

Yeonjun only shrugs, a faint smile on his mouth. “I’m not missing out.”

That clangs. Loudly, as it brings a memory from Soobin’s mind, and he chuckles.

“That’s funny,” he puts his hand on his mouth, feeling the laugh rumble on his chest.

Yeonjun averts his gaze to him, forehead creasing. His eyes widen cluelessly. “What’s funny?”

“What you just said.”

“Why?”

“That’s what you said before you kissed me,” he says, his chest tightening as it finally comes out of his body. The kiss. The kiss. The kiss. It’s finally spoken. “And now you said it again before you got married.”

Yeonjun freezes in place, his knuckles white around the railing. “What are you talking about?”

“Let’s not do this,” he says uncomfortably.

“Do _what_?”

“Pretend that it never happened,” Soobin whispers weakly, his stomach twisting when Yeonjun’s still looking at him with that same emotionless eyes. “It’s been eight years, Junie.”

He closes his eyes tight, heart hammering loudly against his chest. He hears it in his ears. Hears it pulsing to the tip of his fingers.

“Because it did,” he goes on, can’t help but break now that it’s out. “It _did_ happen.”

It’s an eight-year old secret that he couldn’t say. Now it’s bare and leaking.

Yeonjun’s face morphs into something wild, dreadful. “What did?”

“I’m talking about the kiss,” he forces it out exasperatedly.

Yeonjun’s gaze is grim. He looks so genuinely lost, his voice frail. “What kiss, Binnie?”

Then it strikes him. The pieces come together.

Soobin steps back as the revelation hits him in the chest. He looks at Yeonjun’s oblivious, empty eyes.

“You don’t remember,” he rasps.

Yeonjun looks at him desperately. His eyes are panic-stricken, fixed on him. His words crash into each other when he repeats it again. “Remember what?”

“On your eighteenth birthday party,” he begins quietly, fear growing beneath his skin. “You kissed me on your balcony. The next morning, you told me to forget it ever happened.”

Yeonjun sucks in a rough breath, “I was talking about how much I was throwing up,” he explains coarsely, voice lilting higher. “I remember dancing with you. I don’t remember much of anything else about the night.”

“You weren’t rejecting me,” he opens his mouth. It comes rushing in. That day in Yeonjun’s room, his first heartbreak. Turns out it never was.

“No,” Yeonjun shakes his head, then chuckles wetly, “You know how much of a terrible drunk I am.”

Soobin grips the railing tighter. “You never rejected me.”

Yeonjun shakes his head again. The floor spins underneath him.

“Ask me again,” he says, steady. Unnerving. “Ask me who wouldn’t want me.”

Soobin’s voice shakes. “Who wouldn’t want you?”

Yeonjun smiles, broken on the edges. “You.”

The world grows silent. “But I - ”

“That’s why I came back to LA,” he cuts him off frantically, out of breath. “That’s why I didn’t talk to you for a year. You _didn’t_ want me so I made my distance because I couldn’t see you with _him - ”_

“Yeonjun,” he says gravely.

“I thought you didn’t want me back.”

“I did,” Soobin lets it out. He lets it out, bares it out. His heart hangs open. “ _I did._ I did want you.”

Then Yeonjun stares at him, waiting, and Soobin pours out the last part.

“I still do.”

Yeonjun closes his eyes, his fists clenching by his side. Devastation clear on the tight line of his lips as everything sinks in.

“That fight in LA,” Yeonjun says in a rush. “You weren’t rejecting me either.”

Soobin chuckles pityingly. He can’t help it. “I thought that was you rejecting me.”

Yeonjun wipes the side of his face with his hand. “Did we have an entire different fight without realizing?”

“I think so,” Soobin says, shivering inside out. The implication of this makes his toes curl. He looks at Yeonjun and realizes that he’s always looked at him like that.

“So you thought I rejected you,” he spells it out, slowly, “And I thought you rejected me.”

“Yeah,” he nods numbly.

“ _God_ , we’re so stupid.”

Soobin allows himself to ask. “What happened in LA?”

“I was so caught up with the trip, with _you_ , that I just,” he pauses, pursing his lips. “Let myself be drown in it. Touched you the way I wanted to. And I thought you noticed it and didn’t want it.”

“That wasn’t the case,” Soobin denies quietly.

“I wanted to kiss you when we danced in my room. I’ve never felt that way before, like I was going insane if I didn’t take the chance,” Yeonjun tells him, heartbreakingly honest, “I’ve always wanted to kiss you but that night was different _._ I _wanted_ you to know - ”

He worries his bottom lip with his teeth, “I was willing myself to just _suck it up_ and do it, but I got so lost in it that I didn’t realize you were pulling away. I just assumed you realized that I was trying to kiss you, and that’s why you got mad. So I thought _that was it_. You didn’t want me back.”

Soobin stares at him, a question dangling on his tongue. He needs to know before he regrets it. “And now?”

“Now I’m engaged,” Yeonjun answers it for him. The ring still glints, brighter than anything.

“Yeah,” he nods, mind shutting off. He can’t think about it for too long right now. It’s too much to take in such a short time. “It’s your engagement party, after all.”

Yeonjun looks at him back. He’s contemplating it, the smile breaking again in his mouth. The air shifts so much it becomes theirs alone. There’s a lingering taste to it, an acceptance.

Like: _it’s too late._

Like: _you’re eight years too late._

They share a look. They both understand what it means.

*

Taehyun orders take outs and makes himself comfortable on his living room on the fifth of December.

Soobin hesitates on the remote, thumb hovering on the button, but Taehyun nudges him quietly. “It’s fine,” he says, giving him a reassuring look. “Go ahead.”

He looks at his food as the familiar movie starts playing.

“He hasn’t said anything,” Soobin tells him, haltingly, like he isn’t sure if he wants to say it out loud either. “It’s almost midnight.”

Taehyun moves beside him, noodles dangling past his lips. “Maybe he doesn’t know how make it not weird,” he answers diplomatically. It makes sense. “Maybe he’s just... figuring it out.”

“You’re defending him,” Soobin says. Not accusing, just amused. Taehyun never liked Yeonjun.

This whole thing changes that, though. Taehyun looked at him, bewildered, when he first told him about that conversation in the restaurant’s balcony, mouth gaping open disbelievingly.

 _Everything makes sense now, he doesn't remember,_ he had said, sighing like the universe has finally became right. _He's always loved you back._

“Not defending,” Taehyun deflects, eyes fixed on the tv. “Just saying. He’s getting married, Bin. What do you expect?”

He doesn’t know either. He thinks a word would be nice. But he understands the silence. He just wants a to know if everything’s okay.

Maybe it’s not. That’s why Yeonjun hasn’t said anything.

“I don’t know,” he admits, heart involuntarily clenching as the scenes roll out. “I still can’t believe it, Hyun. This feels like a dream to me.”

“Wait it out,” Taehyun glances at him, shrugging. “That’s all you need to do now. There’s nothing else. You’ve done your part, he’s done his. You just have to wait until it isn’t weird anymore.”

“It’s not weird,” Soobin sighs. He just wants to talk to him, even though he knows it’s not that easy. “It’s just - we’re just not used to this. I don’t know how to patch it back up.”

“I don’t think this is something that needs patching up, Bin. This isn’t anyone’s fault, you know. You were just filling in a promise. And he was just clueless.”

Soobin rubs his temple, nods. He knows. He knows that, really. It’s easier to accept when he knows it’s all been a huge dump of misunderstanding.

“He told me to pretend,” he says. “So I did, because that’s what he wanted.”

“What _you_ thought he wanted.”

“How was I to know he wasn’t talking about the kiss?”

Taehyun blows a breath, flashing him an apologetic look. “You were just trying to be a good friend,” he says. “For eight years.”

“For eight years,” he shivers, the stretch of time unimaginably long when he says it out loud.

“Maybe you weren’t alone,” he says. “Maybe it was eight years for him too.”

Soobin stares at the moving pictures on the screen. This movie never failed to make him feel like a kid again. Safe when there was nobody around.

It’s hard to think about. Unreal that Yeonjun wanted him back.

That there was a time where they wanted each other but didn’t know.

He was never alone.

“Just think about it in his shoes, Bin,” Taehyun goes on, voice careful. “He’s _engaged,_ on his way to being _married,_ but he only found out that his best friend loves him. He’s probably confused. Just as you are. Give him time to decide.”

“I don’t want him to do anything for me,” Soobin replies quietly. “If he wants to be with Kai, then I,” he gulps it down. “Then I want him to be with Kai.”

“I know. It’s okay to hurt, though.”

“I know,” Soobin nods, faintly, but he knows Taehyun sees it.

Taehyun doesn’t say anything else. Soobin watches the movie with a serene feeling. It doesn’t hurt like it used to. The wound has been healing for a long time now.

It’s not an open wound. It isn’t for a while.

“Be sad that you’re twenty-six now,” Taehyun quips.

Soobin snorts. “You’re twenty-six too. Shut up.”

Taehyun shoves him to the other side of the couch. Soobin laughs until his eyes water and his chest expands wider, and lighter, and bigger as he breathes in.

*

It’s only on New Year’s Eve when Soobin sees Yeonjun again.

He’s on his door, disheveled, looking both sheepish and unsure. He has both of his hands on the pockets of his coat, shoulders taut.

“Hey,” he says.

Soobin holds the doorknob tighter, breath caught in his throat. “Hey.”

Yeonjun looks the most distraught than he’s ever been. The lines of his face are painted with dejection, something like an etched tiredness in it.

He looks so tired.

“I get if you don’t want to,” he starts, lips wobbling. “But can we go?”

“Where?”

Yeonjun smiles a hopeful one. “The beach.”

Before he could even think about it, his head nods for him. Then his mouth opens, already out in the open before his brain could process it: “Yeah, sure. Of course.”

He gets in the passenger seat of Yeonjun’s car.

The trip to the beach isn’t short. It takes awhile to arrive, yet Soobin said yes to this unnounced, abrupt trip as if they’ve talked to each other since the engagement party.

Soobin leans in to the chair, temple pressed to the cushion. Strings of the evening light makes a home on Yeonjun’s face. He stares at him, he can’t help it.

“You’re looking,” Yeonjun says without averting his gaze from the road.

He shrugs idly, pursing his mouth. “Why are we going to the beach?”

Yeonjun’s answer is simple, uncomplicated. “Because it’s New Year’s Eve.”

Soobin moves his gaze down. The length of Yeonjun’s arms. His hands on the steering wheel.

The ring isn’t there. His fingers are empty, vacant. They’re familar to him now, those untouched skin. The ring isn’t there.

They don’t say anything during the ride. Soobin lets himself sink deeper to how the car moves. It’s a little cold, his hands trembling slightly on his lap. But he closes his eyes.

He closes his eyes and marvel on the feeling.

It’s the end of the year. A few hours until the start of a new one. He’s been here before. A countless times of this exact same trip, a replica of years being in a car with Yeonjun and they’re going to the beach.

He doesn’t look at the time. He knows it will come eventually. He doesn’t need to fret anymore.

Yeonjun’s voice appears in what feels like a second later. He knows it’s been at least a few hours since he started driving, but Soobin opens his eyes, slowly, as the beach comes in view.

“Hey,” his voice. His voice, so close. Apparent in the small space of the car. Soobin takes it in, pulls it to his ribs and never let it go. “We’re here.”

Soobin nods. Looks at him not like the last time, but the first time. Looks at him like he never did, looks at him because this is the only thing he ever wants. “Okay.”

The beach is always grander when he thinks about it. When he’s here, the beach is just the beach. An open space of sand and the sea, waves hitting the shore ceaselessly.

Yeonjun walks down beside him. Stopping above the wet patch of sand that the waves haven’t reached.

“This still feels the same to me,” he says softly.

Soobin breathes it in. The smell of salt, the recognition filling his lungs. The noisy, blaring sound of the sea that is always relentless and persistent.

“Feels the same to me too,” he admits, looking at him. This hasn’t changed. The beach is still the beach, wherever they are, and they’re both still Soobin and Yeonjun, wherever they are.

Whenever they are.

Yeonjun meets his gaze back. Only for a second before he’s staring right ahead again to the vast stretch of the sea.

Then, it comes, as slow as the waves, as faint as the water: “I broke up with him. The wedding’s off.”

Soobin exhales audibly from his mouth, chest tightening. It means something. This means something. Their trips to the beach has always meant something, but only now does he feel brave enough to seek what it is.

“Why?”

The wind blows Yeonjun’s hair, strands of it poking him on the face. His hair is longer. It’s not tied.

Past that, Soobin catches his eyes. Those harden gold on him. The first time again. This is their first time looking at each other, so woundedly open.

“You know why,” he says, quiet enough that it gets muffled by noise.

Soobin faces him, stepping even closer. His shoes, soaked, but he doesn’t care.

“Tell me why,” he urges. Yeonjun turns around until they’re not a distance away. Until they’re here together, not faraway. Present, grounded on the same place.

The sun is still here, its speck of gold on the sky. It reflects on Yeonjun’s skin. Wonderfully the same hue.

“Binnie,” he breathes, even quieter. He looks impossibly small like this. “It’s not him I want.”

Soobin trembles against the wind. Trembles as they get even closer, almost colliding.

“I keep trying to find you in other people,” he admits gut-wrenchingly, his eyes glassy. He opens and closes his palms like he isn’t sure what to do with them. “That’s all I did in LA. Finding your eyes. Your hands. The way your voice sounds when you talk to me. I keep trying to find you in other people, Binnie, because I couldn’t have you.”

He wipes his face, brushing his hair aside as the wind hits. “When Kai started talking to me again, I thought to myself that I’d love him back. I told myself it’d be easy liking him again after high school. And I did. He’s a dream, you know.”

Yeonjun smiles sadly at him, tugging the wrong way. “He’s handsome and kind, and he’s tall, and he’s everything anyone would want,” he says, teeth clenching. “But he’s not you.”

He goes on, breath hitching. “He’s just not _you_ , Binnie. No matter how much I try. He’s not you the way the others weren’t you either.”

Yeonjun’s looking at him tender. A delicateness that doesn’t tear through time.

“It wasn’t fair to Kai. I couldn’t marry someone I only half-heartedly want,” he says. “Even if it felt right at the time. Even when I thought I was making the right decision. But I couldn’t do that to him. I couldn’t do that to myself too. Then I realized something.”

Soobin’s skin tingles. “What?”

“I will never rest. Not until,” he steps forward, hands reaching up to cup Soobin’s face. His fingers come to touch his cheeks, holding him carefully, unhurried.

Soobin closes his eyes, overwhelmed. It’s an easing thing where his skin touches his. The feeling of finally belonging, fitting, coming home.

All those years of hurting. All those years of having an open wound.

It’s eased here, where their skin meet. Soobin doesn’t know how else to bear it.

“Not until this,” Yeonjun breathes on his mouth. Their foreheads bump. So close. Closer than anything’s ever been. “Not until you, Binnie.”

He fumbles for his arms. Touches him there before he travels up until he reaches his neck. Grazing his pulse point, then up again until his hands hold Yeonjun’s face.

Yeonjun drops his hands to his side, limp. Delicate.

Soobin opens his eyes. Just in time to watch Yeonjun’s eyelids pressing down.

He feels his hitched breath on his rib cage. Feels his chest moving, his stomach shifting as those lips parted in a shattering air.

There’s the sun on his cheeks. Yellowish, warm light on his forehead.

He’s not under the moon anymore.

“Junie,” he whispers. The force of the name renders him weak.

Yeonjun holds on to his wrists, the touch urgent but gentle. He’s asking for something.

“Junie,” he repeats, voice breaking apart. He doesn’t know how to bear this, everything inside of him aching.

Yeonjun’s eyes flutter open. His fingers press on the jut of his wrists. “It’s okay,” he says, just to the two of them. The waves beside them is unheard. “It’s okay, I’m here. I promise.”

Yeonjun has always been stronger than him. He tiptoes and leans in.

It’s a long-time coming kiss between them. Yeonjun sighs against his mouth, fingers moving to take him by the waist. His palms are home on his hips. A consolation, solace.

Soobin's hands flutter on his nape, pleased when Yeonjun’s skin warms and lingers. Through the shake of his body, he kisses him back. For once, he kisses him back.

As he sinks into it, he feels Yeonjun’s open mouth shudder, hurting in it he doesn’t know. The gravity doesn’t shift because this is where his axis has always been, and it’s Yeonjun’s first kiss, and it’s Soobin’s first kiss too, all over again, except the sun still shines, and Yeonjun’s body is solid and not drunken.

They break apart, slowly, as their breaths become laboured and hard. Yeonjun looks at him questioningly, permission in his eyes. The sun hits his left cheek as their gaze remains heavy, a silence for another want.

Soobin takes away his hesitation with another kiss, feeling Yeonjun’s mouth move as he smiles. There’s teeth on teeth, awkward fumbling around because they’ve never done this together. Not properly, not breathtaking like this.

Yeonjun laughs, so close to him, against his cheek, then against his shoulder, then laughs again on his mouth. He laughs so openly, freeing, that Soobin’s heart soars from the sound of it.

“I’ve waited so long for you,” Yeonjun says, dangling on his lip, pressed on his now. Soobin feels it hot on his mouth.

The colors of the sky have changed. The sun sets, the night’s come.

He isn’t afraid of it anymore. Smiling, he presses it back on Yeonjun’s lips.

_I’ve been waiting for you too._

*

“Since when?”

Soobin has both his legs propped underneath him. The sand sticks to his jeans, and everywhere else, really, but he ignores it and stares at the darkened edge of the sky. The beach looks calmer like this. A sing-song to it.

“Your birthday party honestly,” he admits, grinning sheepishly. “I think I’ve always felt it, I just never… knew,” he ducks his head down, suddenly shy. “But that kiss made me saw you. Really, for the first time.”

Yeonjun smiles gently at him. “Saw me?”

“Yeah,” he nods, feeling himself reddening. “I realized I didn’t always want you as a best friend.”

Yeonjun opens his palm up, and waits. Soobin holds it unhesitantly. Sighs in relief when their fingers are tangled again, palm on palm.

Filling in space.

This is for them.

“How about you?”

Yeonjun laughs, his thumb brushing his hand absentmindedly. “Remember that fifth grade drawing contest?” he asks quietly. “Yeah, then.”

Soobin’s eyes widen, raises an eyebrow at him in disbelief. “What?”

Yeonjun nods, bashfully meeting his gaze. “I even drew us holding hands, it was so obvious, god, I was so in love with you it was disgusting,” he rolls his eyes, but they’re fond. “It only dawned on me when you stayed by my side the whole night. I was crying about losing but you accompanied me as I kept drawing.”

“Fifth grade, really?”

“It’s not like I knew what the feeling was. But I remembered looking at you, just a second longer than usual, and was like, _huh_ ,” Yeonjun stops to stare at nothing thoughtfully. “ _Huh_ , _this is different_ _._ Then I spent years after that trying to figure out if I was allowed to like you.”

“Then?”

“I tried to ignore the feelings but they never really went away.”

“And now?”

Yeonjun tugs his hand, his lips hovering on his skin. “Now,” he whispers, then presses a tender kiss to the inside of his wrist.

Soobin slowly pulls his hand away, his cheeks turning hot. “Say it, don’t just kiss me.”

He scoots closer to him until he’s halfway on his lap, his elbow nudging his thigh. Yeonjun’s eyes are easy, teasing. Like home. He tilts his head, voice low and melodic. “What do you think, Binnie?”

“I think,” Soobin stares at him. “I think you still like me.”

Yeonjun giggles, crashing into him until they fall on the sand. He presses feather-light, barely-there kisses all across his face. Dozens on his cheeks by his dimples, twice on the nose, an indefinite amount on his forehead too.

“I like you so much,” he says by his ear, tickles. “I like you, I always do, you’re stupid.”

Soobin closes his eyes, warm all over. Even his wet socks. “Come here,” he says, not looking. Yeonjun comes and slides himself beside him, head leaning on his arm. They’re face to face.

The beach is an open space. They’re not on a bed made for one.

He tangles his leg with him. “I think I like you more,” he says in a whisper.

Yeonjun’s eyes twinkle, twinkle, twinkle. He’s smiling again. “Yeah?”

Soobin nods, shakingly reaching out to touch his face. Yeonjun lets him. It breaks his heart that he lets him.

“Yeah,” he nods again. “Is that okay?”

“As long as you never stop.”

He laughs. “That won’t ever be a problem.”

“Okay,” Yeonjun leans forward until the tips of their nose brush. “Then that’s okay.”

“Okay,” Soobin drags his hand up Yeonjun’s back. Stops on the edge of his shoulder blades.

“Now what?”

Soobin gives him a hearten gaze. “You don’t have to rush it with me, Junie,” he reassures soothingly. “I’m not going anywhere.”

The faintest hint of fear flashes on Yeonjun’s eyes. He looks at him, like he’s trying to find any doubt, but nods when he doesn’t find it. “I trust you.”

“I’m here,” Soobin holds him closer, chest warming. “I promise.”

Yeonjun smiles, that was once dreadful. Soobin stares at it with his heart full. “I know.”

The night closes in as fireworks start to go off. Everyone’s waiting to watch the sky erupts in pretty colors. Soobin isn’t waiting for anything. Yeonjun isn’t either.

When the fireworks are the loudest, they hold hands against the sand. Yeonjun’s eyes are only on him.

“Happy new year, Binnie,” he says, still the loudest thing amidst everything else.

The fireworks burn bright. It’s the fire on Yeonjun’s skin that he sees. “Happy new year.”

This is what he wants.

*

He doesn’t get used to it.

Having him around, so easily, uneffortless, just an arm-length away. He doesn’t get used to it.

Yeonjun’s hand never strays too far. He opens his palm and Soobin’s already there to take it, the gaps between their fingers immediately filling in.

He wonders if this is what it is, what love is.

A relief.

There’s always a simplicity in knowing that he’s here. The same way their three houses distance felt - this is how it feels too right now. A soft _hey, can you come over_ and Yeonjun would be in his bed, his hair on his as they sleep the night together, bodies tangled like a promise.

He’s learning so many things about Yeonjun. He’s known him all his life, but it’s different when he’s learning him like this, by his hitched breath, by the pink on his cheeks, by the shown teeth when he smiles.

It’s different when he knows what they mean now.

He learns what it means when Yeonjun shivers as his hand moves up his spine, and his eyes turn a shade darker. He learns what it means when he says his full name, not _Binnie,_ but _Soobin,_ and it gets lost in the air.

“Do you want to know a secret?” Yeonjun asks from beside him, a hot palm on the side of his body, his thumb on his ribs.

Soobin brushes a stray hair from his forehead, tucking it behind his ear. He’s touching him for the first time again, with new wonder, excitement. He’s touching him like it’s his first time. “What?”

“I almost confessed to you, once,” he admits shyly, eyes hovering somewhere else. He moves his hand and grips his hip, resting it there comfortably. “At the airport, when I came back to LA.”

“Yeah?”

Yeonjun hums and nods. “I was waiting for the plane when I had this sudden realization of how much I didn’t want to go. I knew that I had to, but I also knew I couldn’t stay either. I just, god, I just wanted you.”

The almost empty light makes Yeonjun’s face a shadow, an almost flicker. Soobin holds him closer.

“So, I, recorded my voice,” he goes on, quiet. “Confessing my love in the middle of the crowd like a loser.”

“You’re not a loser,” he interrupts.

Yeonjun touches his face, thumbs at his dimple. “I know,” he says softly. “At that time I was though. I told you everything I've ever wanted to tell you, thinking that I would never got a chance to. I remember sitting on my seat, completely broken, holding my phone to my face.”

He smiles then, but it isn’t hurtful. “I told myself I’d send it to you when the gates are open, but I didn’t. Then I told myself I’d send it to you when I arrived, but I didn’t. Then I said okay, maybe when I’m finally on my dorm. But I still didn’t.”

“Why?”

“Because you were happy. I didn’t want to change that. I wasn’t trying to change that.”

Soobin’s heart swells, warmest now. “Thank you.”

Yeonjun leans forward to press a kiss on his brow bone, then another on his eyelid, then another on his temple. His lips hover, voicelessly, on his skin before they finally land on his mouth.

The kiss is bearable. Fleeting the way he knows how to handle.

“I love you,” he whispers, breath fevered. “I love you, Binnie,” he repeats, like he can’t help it.

Soobin’s entire body shivers at that. He’s always known, but it sounds different now. It sounds different when Yeonjun’s still touching him like this, hasn’t changed a thing.

It isn’t a lie anymore. When he places it on the tip of his tongue, it’s the way he’s always wanted to say it: “I love you too,” he sucks in a breath. “I love you. I love you. I do. I love you.”

Yeonjun giggles, a delicate thing that doesn’t get washed out. “I know now. Don’t worry, I know.”

Because they’ve both always known. Ever since the bus stop. Even before that. Just like how Yeonjun always said _I’ve just always known you_ to everyone,

He thinks he’s always just loved him, too.

Soobin kisses him again, pouring his heart out in it. He kisses him until they’re both bruised and Yeonjun pokes him in the stomach, urging him to move.

He lifts himself up, hands on either side of Yeonjun’s head.

This is how he’s always loved him - in the dark. The sunny light hits just right. Enough.

Yeonjun’s hair is a mess on the pillow. His lips are wet, red. He stares at him through heavy, wanting eyes. He holds on to his wrists, knuckles white.

“Soobin,” he says quietly.

He understands.

*

Soobin doesn’t count the days.

Doesn’t mark the year as a stretch of time. He revels the moments with Yeonjun just as they are.

He doesn’t dwell on the day when Yeonjun wakes up on his bed for the umpteenth time, eyes dewy from sleep, skin soft and vivid. He simply stares at him until his eyes are open, fully, and then his lips tug slowly into an aching smile.

“Morning,” he says groggily.

Soobin stretches his arm and reaches where he is. He doesn’t have to struggle anymore. He’s here. He’s here, with him, on his double bed.

Meant for two.

“Don’t go,” he whispers, the first thing he says. Maybe that’s his wish, all the time, all these years. Maybe that’s what Soobin’s bone-deep want is made of. “Stay.”

Yeonjun looks at him with sleepy eyes, barely awake. “Yeah?”

He’s a mess - hair crumpled, bangs too long, puffy cheeks. He’s not eternal, not really. But he’s stunning. He’s a living second that Soobin lets go. That’s how he cherishes it. That’s how he learns to love him.

“Please,” he goes on, fear-ridden voice. “Don’t ever go again.”

Yeonjun wakes up a little more, and snuggles on his arm as an answer. Nods his yes on his collarbone. Kisses it on his lips. Soobin tells him he loves him, again. And again.

Again, as the night comes and he loves him just the same.

He doesn’t dwell on the day he finally moves in. Yeonjun has a lot of things that he brings. The apartment becomes a mess of boxes for a few days before they finally have the time to tidy everything up and makes the living space into one for two.

It’s not his apartment anymore. It’s theirs.

They heal together. Forgive each other about the past, about the pain, about the people they’ve hurt. Yeonjun talks about the wedding that never came, and Soobin tells him about the boy who waited for him too.

“I regret saying yes in the first place,” Yeonjun admits in a night when it’s heavier than most. Soobin simply holds him.

Soobin closes his eyes when he bares it out, how much the guilt has never really left. The party. The rain. The boy who left. “I did love him, Junie,” he says.

Yeonjun doesn’t say anything either. He holds his hand, tangled between their bodies. The silence is not unspoken, but understood. And the thing about the past is they can’t change it.

So they let it go.

Their first date, second, twelfth. They’re all scattered across the year, and Soobin doesn’t mark the dates, doesn’t pinpoint exactly where Yeonjun kisses him in public for the first time, when Soobin realizes that there’s not a single thing about Yeonjun that he doesn’t want. It’s marked in Yeonjun’s smile, and his honey voice, and the way his hands move when they touch him. That’s how he counts them - these moments, painted forever in Yeonjun’s image. That’s how he remembers them. That’s how he grasps them.

Time flies. Time flies when you’re twenty-seven and the numbers don't matter.

As it goes, it’s New Year’s Eve and Yeonjun is with him.

He wears his nicest pajamas and the baggiest pants he owns. He applies a little makeup just for fun, even does it on Soobin after he takes a shower, holding his face with both hands as Soobin cranes his head up obediently on the edge of the bed.

“This is a special day,” Yeonjun tells him as he messes with his eyebrow, laughing when Soobin winces. He doesn’t think he’s doing anything correctly. “So you have to look nice.”

Soobin squints at him suspiciously. “I thought you said I always look nice.”

Yeonjun only grins, pressing his thumb on Soobin’s bottom lip. He doesn’t even see him touch any lipstick beforehand. This is clearly just a set up.

“You do always look nice,” he says, softer than it’s supposed to be. “Need to look nicer tonight, though.”

Soobin holds on to his elbows, tugging him until Yeonjun gets closer. “What’s tonight?”

He doesn’t answer, because he knows that he knows. It’s New Year’s Eve. Of course he knows - it’s been a year.

It’s been a year since the beach. It’s been a lifetime since the beach.

“What are your resolutions?” Soobin asks quietly. Yeonjun hums, still touching him without intent.

“You want to know?”

“Yeah.”

Yeonjun drags him outside of the room. He’s smiling, still as stickly, still brimming. He opens the door to the balcony. The fireworks are loud on the sky.

Bright, unyielding.

“Hey,” Yeonjun greets him with a voice so frail it melts. He sounds like they’re meeting for the first time. Like it’s their airport meetings. Their airport farewells. His eyes turn small, his cheeks bunching up with the gravity of his smile.

Soobin ignores everything else. The fireworks are not distracting.

“Hey,” he says with the same love.

Their balcony overlooks the moving city; relentless air. An eternity that always comes back.

Soobin doesn’t care. He doesn’t care for forever anymore. Finding things that last, he doesn’t care, because they’re both here.

Yeonjun’s nose scrunches, his teeth delved on his bottom lip. He giggles, so close to him he could hold it. “You,” he says, dragging his elbows on Soobin’s shoulders, fingers between his hair.

He splays his hand on his back. “What?”

“You,” he goes on. “That’s my year’s resolution.”

Soobin’s breath hitches. “You’re cheesy, you know that?”

Yeonjun only smiles brighter, bigger. “I’m serious. Hear me out,” he says quietly, eyes going wide. “I have everything I want here. You, this home. What else do I need?”

“A bigger bed too,” Soobin laughs. “You have a bigger bed now.”

“That too,” he grins, touching his neck. “Every year, there has never been anything else after you. I wish for you.”

Soobin stares at him. The smile stays. Those hands, stilled. His voice, linger. Linger. Always linger.

“Tell me yours,” he nudges him.

“My resolution is,” Soobin begins, looking over his face. Yeonjun’s staring at him back. He’s always looked at him like this. He knows what it means now. “To be where you are.”

Yeonjun’s eyes turn sad, faintly, almost unseen. There’s still that fear of leaving. Between them, there’s still that fear of being left behind.

He knows it’s not the case anymore: Soobin’s holding him. Yeonjun’s holding him back.

It's enough.

Right now, it’s enough.

“You are where I am,” he reminds him quietly. Yeonjun’s so beautiful like this. When the fireworks are nothing compared to him. Nothing else.

Nothing else has ever come close.

“Okay,” he says. Yeonjun touches his face, but there’s no more pretending. This is a sober feeling.

Soobin smiles, and leans in.

**Author's Note:**

> AAAAAH hello! if you follow me on twitter, you would know how much i struggled with this! but it's finally here! i love this fic so much this is my baby so i really hope you like it :D please let me know if you do! 
> 
> have a wonderful morning/afternoon/evening/night wherever you are! drink enough water oki <3
> 
> YOU GUYS!! @DoublXpresso on twitter made a stunning art for this fic!! please check it out [here](https://twitter.com/DoublXpresso/status/1337792624598667264?s=19) and give it lots of love ♡ i am still screaming btw it's SO GORGEOUS. 
> 
> you can talk to me here! [twt](https://twitter.com/petaljun) [cc](https://curiouscat.me/petaljun)


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